The Last Job
by Dominus Noobius
Summary: After fifteen years inside, Tommy Vercetti was sent to Vice City for one last job with the Forelli Mafia. But when the deal is blown, a relaxing holiday turns into a huge search, which only leads to more trouble. Rewritten. Chs 10 & 11 up.
1. Prologue: The Meeting

**Staunton Island Courthouse, Liberty City 1971**

_There was pandemonium outside the courthouse. A mob of people, held back by a number of riot police pushed and shoved in an attempt to get to the suspect, who was flanked by a number of policemen brandishing nightsticks. As he was guided through towards the doors of the courthouse, the mass took their turns to aim profanities and insults in his direction. One man actually broke through and went to take a swing, but just as quickly, two policemen collected the man in a bone-crushing crash tackle, pinning him to the floor._

_Inside, the courthouse was packed to the brim. The people in this room were much more civilized, but there were still murmurs as he was escorted in. The man's hood was removed, and he was settled down next to his legal representatives._

"_Order in the court!" shouted the judge, slamming his mallet and bringing the room to silence._

_As Tommy Vercetti's hood was removed, he gazed quickly around the room. He immediately located the man he was looking for: Sonny Forelli._

_The entire case was a no-doubter. There was a large number of witnesses ready to provide evidence that Tommy Vercetti had murdered at least one of the twelve dead men. It was all about the sentencing: whether he got life, or whether he got something less than that. And there was one other factor: whether Vercetti would turn in the Mafia he had worked for, or stay silent and have his loyalty rewarded._

* * *

**Marco's Bistro, Liberty City 1986**

Sonny Forelli idly leaned on his chair in Marco's Bistro, taking a swig of beer. He was grinning, trash-talking and winning: a large pile of poker chips sat in front of him. He upped the stakes once more.

But as Sonny drank, the door into the room knocked, and Sonny called the man in. It was one of his informants. The Forelli Don waved him over and the informant stood and whispered something into his ear. Sonny nodded a couple of times and then widened his eyes in shock. Shaking his head in disbelief, he dismissed the man and turned to his fellow henchmen.

"Tommy Vercetti…huh!" he exclaimed. "Shit! Didn't think they'd ever let him out…"

"He kept his head down, helped people forget," one of his henchmen replied with a shrug.

"People will remember soon enough. When they see him walking down the streets of their neighbourhoods. It will be bad for business."

"Well, what are we going to do, Sonny?" the henchmen asked, scratching his head as he tried to pick a hand to play.

Sonny mused thoughtfully. He hadn't expected the need to deal with his old hatchet man again, considering that he had originally gotten forty years. But he wasn't worried: he'd been looking for someone to take up on a plan he'd been thinking out for a while.

"We treat him like an old friend, and keep him busy out of town. OK?"

Knowing that his henchmen would agree with him, Sonny continued on.

"We've been talking about expanding south, right? Vice City is twenty-four carat gold these days. The Colombians, the Mexicans, hell, even the Cuban refugees are cutting themselves a piece of some nice action."

He was right. Vice City had become a gold mine in the drugs trade-there was no better destination for the illegal drugs to be offloaded into the country by the shipload, especially with a large number of easily-manipulated dock officials. And Sonny saw an entry into the city: only two years ago, the Mendez Brothers, two of Vice City's most powerful drug kingpins, had been killed in a bloody turf war. In the same turf war, the Sharks street gang had lost much of the influence they had in the same drugs business. That left plenty for the Forelli family to take.

"But it's all drugs, Sonny. None of the families will touch that shit!" protested the second henchman.

Sonny grinned before replying with a shake of his head.

"Times are changing. The families can't keep their backs turned while our enemies reap the rewards. So we send someone down to do the dirty work for us…and cut ourselves a nice quiet slice, OK?"

By now, the Forelli's boss mind was deep-set on the idea. He stood up and paced around the room.

"Who's our contact down there?" Sonny asked.

"Ken Rosenberg, schmuck of a lawyer…" snorted the henchman derisively. "But how's he going to hold Vercetti's leash?"

"We don't need to. We just set him loose in Vice City; we give him a little cash to get started, okay? Give it a few months, then we go down, pay him a little visit, right? See how he's doing."

In Sonny's mind, all that meant was heading down there and watching the cash roll in.

* * *

**Liberty City Peniterary, Staunton Island, Liberty City**

Tommy Vercetti woke up in a daze in his small cell in Liberty City Peniterary. He had barely even taken notice of his gloomy surroundings that he had been acquainted to for the last fifteen years when he remembered. _Today's the day_, he thought. Fifteen years of his life spent, serving time for someone else's gain. Now he was finally free-for now, only on parole. A few more years of toeing the line and he'd be able to settle in as perhaps just another common person. He dressed in his dull orange overalls, knowing today would be the last time he wore them, and waited for the warden to unlock the door.

Half an hour later, Tommy was waiting impatiently as his parole officer scribbled down the last details on his paperwork before signing off with a flourish

"All right, Mr. Vercetti, you're done. Remember, you've got a progress check in a month, so don't forget, or we'll have to drag you back here."

"Whatever." Tommy grumbled, pulling his newly-issued Hawaiian T-shirt over his head.

"Watch yourself in the real-world, Mr. Vercetti, don't go killing any more people!" shouted the officer cheekily as Tommy pushed through the exit doors.

"Yeah, as if I will." Tommy snarled back as he stormed outside, a free man for the first time in fifteen years.

It was early-morning on Staunton Island, Liberty City. So far so good for Tommy as he strolled down the street. No stares. No pointed fingers and whispering. Liberty City hadn't changed much after fifteen years: Tommy noticed the same police cars, the same taxis, a few different buildings here and there, and recognised several car models…a Moonbeam, a Pony, a Blista Compact among the familiar sights. Then Tommy's heart skipped a few beats as he watched a dark-brown Sentinel round the corner.

Tommy was quietly wishing that it would pass right by him, but it ended up slowing to a stop right next to him. Before Tommy could move a muscle, a dark-haired man holding a Colt .45 pistol emerged. There was a second man sitting in the driver's seat.

"You Vercetti?" the man asked.

"Yes." Tommy replied, glaring at the man.

"I'm Harry, and that guy there is Lee, we work for Sonny. You remember Sonny, right?" he asked.

"Yeah." Tommy replied distantly.

"Come on, get in." Lee offered.

Realising that he didn't have much of a choice, Tommy entered the vehicle and slumped into the backseat. He was furious with himself for moving right into the Mafia's clutches moments after his emancipation. All he wanted was to be in control of his own life, but that hope seemed bleak as the Sentinel drove off..

"So what's this all about?" he asked, wanting to get straight to the point.

"Well, Sonny wants you to do one last job, a drug deal down in Florida. He said that afterwards, he'd give you enough cash to set up somewhere. Are you up to it?" Harry asked.

Tommy's mind immediately moved towards rejecting the offer, but then he thought about it. _One_ more job? He wanted to live a normal life, having wasted so many years in jail, nearly half his life so far. But he had no money. One more job couldn't possibly hurt.

"Where about in Florida? And why me anyway?" he asked.

"Vice City. Nice and warm, sunshine 24/7. I can't imagine you've had much of it over the last fifteen years. And Sonny says if we get this drug deal done, he'll let send down some more support and let you run the show."

Grinning, Harry turned from the passenger seat to face Tommy.

"So, you in?"

Tommy thought for a moment, while the two mobsters awaited his answer expectantly. Slowly, his head worked into a nodding motion.

"Well, now that's settled, we should probably head for the airport. Our flight's in a couple of hours, I think." Lee said, as he began accelerating the car.

"What, we're not going to meet Sonny?" Tommy asked.

"Nah, he already sorted out all the details. We've got the cash in the back; Sonny's booked us rooms in a hotel near our Vice City contact. The deal's sometime in the evening, we want to get it done with before any complications arise."

"Fine by me."

With that, the Admiral turned and drove off.

* * *

_Click._

"_Hello?"_

"_Mr. Teal."_

"_Black."_

"_I have received information of a drug deal between some out-of-towners that is to take place in the open area next to the Viceport Boatyard at sunset. One of my clients has wished for this deal to be eradicated. I want you to ambush both sides and seize any assets they leave behind. Good luck, Mr. Teal." _


	2. An Old Friend

**Escobar International Airport, Vice City 1986**

Tommy couldn't help feeling jetlagged as the Juank Air flight finally touched down in Vice City. Even though the flight had been short, just under three hours, the fact that he had never flown before in his life meant that he had spent the vast majority of the flight sitting contorted in his seat, peeved by the lack of space offered to him. It was late afternoon, and the deal was due in about half an hour. Harry and Lee both grabbed their luggage, and after checking out, they headed for the exits.

Waiting for them outside was a man with 'geek' written all over him: glasses and a light purple suit, leaning against a dinged white Admiral. Tommy wasn't very impressed by him - but he had 'lawyer' written all over him, so then again, he was justified in thinking that way.

"Hey, hey, guys! It's, uh, Ken Rosenberg here, hey! Heh, heh, her, great, hey!" Ken offered, greeting them nervously while motioning them into the car. It was obvious that he was feeling extremely uncomfortable, amongst three mobsters. Tommy shrugged at this pitiful first impression produced from the lawyer - with some luck, this would be the only meaningful experience he'd have to share with the man.

As he, Harry and Lee entered Ken's vehicle, noticing that the interior of the vehicle was even more appalling than the second-rate impression given off by the outside, Ken continued with his attempts to raise conversation - predictably, these attempts were complete failures, as none of them were particularly willing to talk.

"Well, uh, I'm gonna drive you guys to the meet, okay? Now I've talked to the suppliers and they are very, huh-ha, keen to start a business relationship, so, uh, if all goes well, we should, uh, be doing very nicely for ourselves, which is, y'know…good."

Tommy couldn't stand his annoying voice. But he continued listening.

"Okay, so. They're brothers, okay. One operates the uh, business."

Ken paused for a moment, waiting for some acknowledgment. When he didn't get any from his passengers, all he could do was cut his losses and start the engine, to the silent relief of Tommy.

With that, the Admiral drove off towards the Vice Port. And not far behind it, drove a black Sentinel.

* * *

**Vice City Ports – site of former Civil Asset Forfeiture Impound**

Tommy spotted the two brothers almost immediately - the two were already waiting for their arrival. One of them was already standing on open ground with two briefcases, looking non-descript in a Hawaiian shirt. The other brother was sitting in the helicopter, dressed immaculately in what appeared to Tommy as an elegant white suit - the sort of fashion statement which Tommy had noticed wasn't exactly uncommon in this world, the world which he hadn't witnessed for fifteen years

Perhaps a little emboldened by the reaching of the destination with no screw-ups, Ken attempted to restart conversation, turning to the three men.

"Okay, that's them in the chopper. All right, here's the deal. They want a straight exchange on open ground, okay? All right? Ok. Stay tight, let's go."

Harry, Lee and Tommy all got out of the car, ignoring Ken. All three were holding heavy briefcases full of the cash Sonny had given them, and they proceeded to drag the cases over to where the dealer stood. The dealer acknowledged the three men with a raise of his hand, and they immediately moved to business.

"Got it?" Tommy asked the dealer.

The man nodded. He pulled out a couple of briefcases filled with cocaine.

"100% pure grade-A Colombian, my friend," the dealer proudly announced.

"Let me see it." Tommy said.

But as they were sorting out the exchange, t

"The greens?" asked the dealer, flipping open the briefcases to reveal the cocaine.

"Tens and twenties…used." Tommy replied, opening his case of money.

"I think we have a deal, my friend. HA HA!"

As Harry and Lee started the confirmation of the deal, the sound of gunfire erupted in the air. The black Sentinel which had followed them from the airport had emptied its passengers - three men dressed in robbery outfits had crept in on the deal from a side entrance, crouched behind nearby boxes and were now firing with assault rifles. Instinctively ducking down, Tommy watched in horror as the dealer, Harry, and Lee were all cut down as a result of the bullets. Turning to his right, he spotted the three men who were now wildly spraying bullets in his direction.

"Oh shit!" Tommy yelled.

Dropping his briefcase, he made a break for the Admiral, as the man in the chopper scarpered.

He realised that he wouldn't have enough time to open the door and enter properly without the risk of being shredded, so he took the only other option: the window. If he missed, he was probably dead. But he timed his dive well, crashing into the backseat and startling the lawyer who had been surveying the scene in a shocked manner.

"Go on, get out of here! Drive!" yelled Tommy.

Rosenberg didn't think twice: he hit the accelerator, the Admiral shuddered once, before it began speeding off towards Ken Rosenberg's office, leaving behind both the drugs and Sonny's money.

* * *

**Vice Beach, outside Ken's office**

It was nightfall by the time they reached Ken's office; the sun had set pretty quickly, with it still being late winter in Vice City. By then, Ken was hugely distressed. Pulling the car to a stop, he slammed the steering wheel and started blustering.

"I poke my head out of the gutter for ONE freakin' second, and fate shovels SHIT in my face."

Tommy had the same feeling, but he made an effort to calm the frantic lawyer down.

"Go get some sleep."

Ken sighed and looked at Tommy.

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'll drop you off by your office, and tomorrow we can start sorting this mess out."

Nodding repeatedly, Ken pulled himself out of the car, and immediately sprinted for his office, as if a bullet would be fired at him at any second.

Tommy sighed, had a look at the map of Vice City that Ken had given him, and looked for the Ocean View Hotel, the one Sony had booked for him. As he drove, he realised that he was in deep, deep _shit_. He had thought it would be his last job ever for the mob, but now, Sonny would obviously want him to get the money back. His mood wasn't exactly improved by the announcement on the radio of an incoming hurricane, meaning all the bridges would be closed by tomorrow morning, and all flights would be cancelled. _Why couldn't it have been today,_ he thought furiously.

Eventually, he found the way to the hotel which turned out to be a short drive away.

The hotel was quiet at this time of the night, but there was still a couple dining and two more sitting by the bar. Tommy walked up to reception.

"Prior reservation," he said, producing a document.

"Ah yes, Mr. Vercetti. I've got you down in Room 151 for three weeks. Any luggage?" the receptionist asked.

Tommy shook his head.

"All right, you're set to go. Up the stairs, turn left, it's the far room to your left."

"Thank you."

Tommy clambered up the stairs and entered his room. It wasn't bad; of course it would've looked better if things had gone right. There was a television on one side, a queen-sized bed and a window with a view of Ocean Beach. It also contained a telephone, which reminded Tommy of an unfortunate task: calling Sonny and telling him the bad news.

With a sigh, he grabbed the receiver and dialled the number which had been given to him by Harry and Lee.

* * *

Sonny Forelli took one last gulp of beer, and tossed it into the bin. He wondered what was going on with Vercetti. Just then, the phone rang. Taking it, and hearing Tommy Vercetti's voice, he immediately cried:

"Tommy! Tommy, it's been too long."

"Hello Sonny." Tommy's gloomy voice came over the receiver.

"I know, I know, you're overwhelmed with emotion. Fifteen years-seems like only yesterday." Sonny replied sarcastically.

"I guess that's a perspective thing." Tommy grunted, slumping against the wall.

"Hey, doing time for the family is no piece of cake, but the family looks after its own, ok?" Sonny retorted, and then turned to business.

"So, how'd the deal go down-you sitting on some white gold?" the Mafioso asked.

"Look, Sonny, we were set up. The deal was an ambush. Harry and Lee are dead…"

All of a sudden, Sonny had lost his calm. He gripped the receiver tight.

"You better be kidding me Tommy. Tell me you still got the money." Sonny growled, slowly raising his voice.

Tommy took a breath, and replied in the negative; almost waiting for Sonny's outraged voice.

"That was my money, Tommy, MY MONEY!" Sonny bellowed in a fury over the line. "You better not be screwing me Tommy, because you know I'm not a man to be screwed with!"

"Wait, Sonny," Tommy cut in. "You have my personal assurance that I'm going to get your money back and the drugs. And I'm gonna mail you the dicks of those responsible."

There was silence for a moment, before Sonny's voice reappeared over the receiver, lowered slightly.

"Hey, I already know that." Sonny puffed. "You're not a fool Tommy, but I warn you, neither am I. If it was anybody else you'd be DEAD already. But because it's you, because we got history, I'm gonna let you handle this."

"Look, Sonny, you got my word. I'll be in touch."

There was a grunt, and then the line went dead.

Tommy stood there for a moment, and then spun around, flinging the phone to the ground. As he watched it bounce, he grabbed a bottle of wine from a nearby cabinet (apparently, Sonny had generously filled up the room with food and drink, expecting a massive haul) and took a sip. He would watch some TV, maybe go downstairs and get some proper food with the small change he had, and sleep on his problem to deal with it tomorrow.

* * *

**Ricardo Diaz's Mansion:**

"Eh, so you got those pricks, huh? They have any resistance?" Ricardo Diaz asked.

"No. They weren't expecting it."

"Hah! A perfect ambush! Show me the stuff."

The three men headed back to their car and dragged out several briefcases. The drug baron grinned, and ordered his men to take them. He turned back to the men.

"Tell your boss that you've done the job. I've already sent my side of the deal to a location he requested. I'm sure he'll pay you handsomely."

The men nodded and walked back to the Sentinel. Seconds later, they had driven off.

Satisfied with his day's work, Ricardo Diaz moved over to his office. As he did so, he shouted another command to one of his nearby henchmen.

"Miguel! Get Victor on the line, I want him to start finding a seller for my new merchandise!"

"No, amigo, he's out on a drug deal. Should be back soon too…" Miguel called out.

"Wait, a drug deal? Whereabouts?"

"Vice City Ports."

A look of apprehension appeared on the drug baron's face.

"IN HIS HELICOPTER?" he asked loudly, a stutter appearing in his voice.

"Yeah. He's meeting with some guys from outta town, flew in from Liberty today I think."

"Oh…fucking…shit." Diaz mumbled.


	3. The Party: Vice City's Big Guns

Tommy woke up in his room at the Ocean View. His first full day in Vice City and not a good one either. While he was dressing, he turned on the radio to VCN News, where news of the botched-up deal yesterday was being reported. After a quick shower, Tommy downed a beer from the wine cabinet and drove off in the Admiral to Ken's office.

When he arrived and knocked on the door, Ken was already awake - or perhaps he had not fallen asleep at all. The lawyer's face looked as if it had been dipped in a giant vat filled with anxiousness and paranoia. When he spoke, it was in a hoarse, tortured tone.

"Go to sleep, he says-I have been sitting in this chair all night with the lights off drinking coffee! This is a disaster. We are so screwed, man! These gorillas, listen to me, are gonna come down here and rip my head off! It's ridiculous!" the lawyer exclaimed, furiously pacing around the office.

Tommy ignored him and moved towards the window, staring outside while trying to figure out a solution.

"I did NOT go to law school for this! Okay, what the hell are we gonna do?" Ken continued.

"Shut up, sit down, and relax," Tommy replied coolly - although inside, he was just as nervous as Ken. "I'll tell you what we're gonna do. You're gonna find out who took our cocaine - and then, I'm gonna kill them."

As if to display his composure, he sat down on the chair opposite of Ken, and placed his feet on Ken's desk.

"That's a good idea. That's a GREAT idea." Ken replied with an unconvinced chuckle. "Let me think, let me think, let me think. OH! There's this retired Colonel, Colonel Juan Garcia Cortez. He's the one who helped me set up this deal well away from Vice City's established thugs. Okay?"

Tommy nodded: during the flight, he'd heard Colonel Cortez's name mentioned by Harrry and Lee, although the two hadn't exactly included him in their discussions about the deal.

"Now, listen." Ken continued. "He's holding his party out in the bay on his expensive yacht and all of Vice City's big players are gonna be there. OK? I have an invite, of course I have an invite, but there's no way that I'm going out there, sticking my head out the door - no way! Not gonna happen."

Before the lawyer could keep his ranting up, Tommy cut in.

"I told you, shut up! I'll go myself…"

A smirk appeared on Ken's face - the first time he had really broken from his state of shock. Tommy looked at him in bemusement, wondering why such an innocuous comment would elicit a reaction in the lawyer.

"Ho-whoa, whoa! Hey, I like 1978 too, but y'know, this isn't going to be a beer and strippers do…" Ken commented facetiously. His smirk grew a little bigger as he ignored Tommy's dirty look.

"I mean, no offence, but I think you might turn heads on the runway for the wrong reasons."

Tommy wasn't pleased. He knew what Ken was getting at...but he liked his shirt. With an annoyed stare, he grunted a response.

"What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

Ken was still grinning - now it was getting a little creepy. Chuckling to himself, the lawyer opened his desk and rifled through its contents, eventually pulling out a business card and handing it to Tommy.

"Okay, look here. Stop by Rafael's near the gas station in Washington Beach, tell him I sent you. He'll make you look respectable. Okay, go, c'mon."

Tommy shrugged and left with no further reply.

* * *

When he arrived at Raphael's, he found out that Ken had been true to his word. After taking a few measurements, Tommy drove off to the Colonel's boat at the Marina dressed in a stylish purple soiree suit. Part of him was happy about this: he hadn't exactly imagined to be dressing in style a couple of days after he had left prison. Then again, he hadn't expected that he would be in Vice City, of all places, searching for money on behalf of somebody he had sworn he would never work for ever again. Yet he made no plans to dispose of his Hawaiian shirt though: it'd be back on the moment he left the party.

Upon arriving at the Marina, he almost instantly noticed the boat, which was by far the largest out of all the water vehicles around. At the gate, he flashed the invitation which Ken had given him to the security guards, and was led onto the boat and up a set of stairs.

The Colonel was already waiting for his arrival right at the top of the stairs, offering him a handshake and a glass of champagne.

"Buenas noches." greeted Cortez warmly. "I understand you are here on the behalf of Mr. Rosenberg, I hope any recent problems have not affected his health, or uh, mental well being, Mr…uh?"

"Vercetti. He's just got a touch of…agoraphobia." Tommy replied, surprised at his own vocabulary.

"Excellent, excellent. And you?" Cortez asked. Tommy raised his eyebrow, considered being more tactful, but decided that there was no point in delaying. Firmly, he made his response.

"I just want my merchandise."

"Ah. It's an unfortunate set of circumstances for all involved." commented Cortez grimly, maintaining his politeness as he continued speaking. "Of course, I have initiated my own lines of inquiry, but such a delicate matter will take time. Perhaps we will talk later. Meanwhile, let me introduce you to my daughter. Mercedes! Caramia, could you look after our guest while I attend to my necessary obligations?"

A short, dark-haired woman in a purple dress and tights sauntered up to Cortez.

"Of course, daddy," she replied.

"Please excuse me," said the Colonel, as he headed off to wait for new arrivals.

"Mercedes!" Tommy asked, baffled.

"You try live with it," she retorted feistily, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away from her father, who had turned in wait of another arrival.

Mercedes Cortez moved briskly, her nails digging sharply into Tommy's arm, providing him discomfort even through his purple suit. She didn't notice this though - instead, she airily pointed to a smartly-dressed middle-aged man with a scantily-clad red-haired woman on one arm. Noticing Tommy's look, she chuckled softly before starting her explanations

"Let me point out some of our more distinguished guests. That's our congressman Alex Shrub with rising silicone star Candy Suxx…"

Tommy smirked silently to himself at the adultery. Liberty City back in 1971 had been fairly abysmal in terms of its track record with clean politicians, but at least those guys had made an attempt to conceal themselves from their less savoury activities. Here, he watched as the Congressman spoke to a shorter, much more casually-dressed male who appeared in awe to be standing next to the politician.

"And have you met my lovely wife Laura? No? Well, unfortunately she's in Alabama. This is Candy."

The younger man blushed a little as the porn star gave him a friendly pat on the head.

Mercedes rolled her eyes and ushered Tommy onwards.

"And over there, we have the Vice City Mambas' star tight end, BJ-always the charmer." Mercedes continued, pointing at a black and well-built man standing with a businessman dressed much like a cowboy. As they passed, Tommy could hear the tight end's animated conversation, making hand actions that resembled a particularly nasty crash-tackle.

"I blocked down on him and then I put him in a wheelchair!"

"Haha, that is good! Well now, I'm looking at some prime real estate property," the cowboy replied as he spotted Tommy and Mercedes, tapping his hat in a show of Texan politeness.

Mercedes then pointed to a flamboyantly-dressed man in black leather with a wild hairdo. He appeared unduly relaxed, being fawned over by two scantily-clad girls.

"And that poolside amphibian is Jezz Torrent, lead singer with Love Fist."

That name was one Tommy faintly recognised. Love Fist had been just entering the scene about the time he was imprisoned.

"Can I tell you-do you know how they play ping-pong in Thailand? Let me tell you, it does not involve a paddle, if you know what I mean!" Jezz roared, letting himself be heard: he was quite obviously intoxicated.

"Impotent," Mercedes commented, shaking her head, ushering Tommy forward. She pointed to three more people: a fat man lying asleep, and a white-haired businessman listening in on a bearded man, who was attempting to explain something in great detail. "And the chatty trio. That sleeping sweat gland is Papa's right hand gimp, Gonzalez, and the other two are Pastor Richards, and pseudo intellectual film director, Steve Scott."

Tommy watched Steve Scott, who was describing a movie scene to the Pastor loudly.

"…passion with the nympho invaders, when the giant shark comes in and just bites their dicks off! Ha now, you never saw anything like that before, have you?"

_That's interesting enough_, thought Tommy. But it wasn't getting him anywhere. From all the people he'd met so far, none of them appeared likely to have sent those three men who had so ruthlessly busted up the deal. So far, the party had seemed like a waste of time.

But just then, the general chitter-chatter was interrupted by the arrival of a new notable: a short and Hispanic man. Two bodyguards were on either side of him. He marched onto the deck, announcing his arrival loudly to the rest of the guests.

"Colonel! Your parties as ever are a triumph, hahahaha! I can only apologize for my late arrival."

"Ah, de nada amigo. How do we find you?" asked Cortez pleasantly.

"Business is very trying-barbarians at the gates. A time for rewarding one's friends and liquidating one's enemies, amigo," the man replied.

"Who's the loudmouth?" asked Tommy.

"Ricardo Diaz. He's Mr. Coke," snorted Mercedes contemptuously in response.

_Diaz_, thought Tommy. If he really was "Mr. Coke", it probably meant that he was either a rival to the dealer who had been killed, or he was a partner to the dealer. Tommy had a feeling that Ricardo Diaz was one name he'd have to lock away for future reference.

"Mercedes!" Diaz shouted, noticing the Colonel's daughter.

"Oh, I was just taking my friend back into town. Another time, Ricardo." came Mercedes' polite reply. She turned her face back to Tommy, who could see that she was unimpressed with the drug lord's advances.

"Let's get out of here…" she whispered.

"Actually, take me to the Pole Position Club." Mercedes piped up as the two of them ran out to where the white Admiral was parked. They entered and buckled up. As Tommy started the engine, Mercedes asked:

"Will you be working for my father?"

Tommy thought for a moment. The Colonel would probably want him to complete a few errands while he was working on the inquiry for Sonny's busted-up deal.

"Maybe." he answered coolly.

"Do you mind me resting my hand on your lap?"

"Maybe."

"It's so difficult having a rich and powerful father." grumbled Cortez's daughter. "Vamos."

Using both his vague knowledge of the map and Mercedes instructions, Tommy found himself parked outside the Pole Position Club a couple of minutes later. He smiled quietly to himself as he stared at the poles making up the "racy" logo, wondering if Mercedes was a customer looking for beefcakes or a worker. Meanwhile, Mercedes exited the car, handing him a little cash as a token gesture.

"See you around, handsome!" she crooned suavely as she made her way into the club.

"I'm sure you will." Tommy called after her before he drove off.

_That wasn't bad_, he thought. He'd probably have to recall some of those other faces sometime in the near future. Diaz was one he'd definitely have to remember. But he knew that it would take a lot more digging to get to the bottom of the entire dilemma.


	4. A Sniff Of The Action

Tommy drove back to Ken's office, and opened the door. Not surprisingly, Ken was waiting for him, his face still pale with worry.

"Ah! Well I hope you're having a good time. Because I'm going out of my mind with worry here." Ken spoke with a sarcastic, bitter tinge. "What did you find out?"

"That there are more criminals in this town than in prison." Tommy grunted in reply. "We need a lead from the streets…"

This was easy enough for Ken, and Tommy stood back as the lawyer started thinking through the options.

"Okay, let me think, let me think, let me think-AH! I've got it! Okay, there's this limey, some music industry slime ball, goes by the name of Kent Paul. Anyway he's got his nose so far up Vice City's ass that if anybody knows the whereabouts of 20k's of coke, it's this guy, all right? He's always at the Malibu."

"I'll go pay him a visit." Tommy said.

"Take it easy now." Ken shouted, as Tommy shuffled out the door again.

* * *

Tommy drove over to the flashy-looking club in Vice Point, with red neon lighting announcing "The Malibu Club" along with a flashing palm tree. It was about noon, early in the working week and summer was a few months away, yet the music was booming and the club was filled. As he made for the door, the security guards stepped in front of him asked him what he was here for.

""I'm looking for some English guy…" Tommy told the guard.

"You mean that guy over there? Yeah, he is," one of the guards pointed him to a young man wearing a dark t-shirt chatting up a young woman – Tommy recognised him as the guy who had been hanging next to the Congressman at the Colonel's party. He sure had make it quick off the boat.

_No wonder Ken recommended him to me_, Tommy thought as he made his way over to Kent. The guy sure moved around fast - Tommy hoped that the moving was just following the latest gossip. As he got closer, he caught Kent's attempts at flirting with the woman.

"Where'd you pop up from? I've been looking for a bird like you for ages, mate. Kent Paul, mate. Kent Paul, mate. Yeah, I'm governor 'round here. I sort things out, you know what I mean? I'll treat you. Whatever you want, I'll get you, girl."

Tommy at that point decided to make an unwelcome entrance into the conversation.

"Get lost, honey." Tommy snarled rudely at the woman as he shoved his way in between the two.

"Oi oi oi oi oi!" Kent protested as the woman gave Tommy a cold look before walking off. Fuming, he turned back to Tommy, who interrupted him, speaking loudly over the music, before the Brit could unleash an insult.

"You Kent Paul? I'm a friend of Rosenberg's…"

For a moment, Kent's face was blank as he searched through his mental records. Then, his face lit up and he started up in a way which irritated Tommy immensely.

"Rosenberg….Rosenberg…Oh, that bonkers ambulance chaser! That guy could defend an innocent man all the way to the death row!" Kent exclaimed with a chuckle.

He called for another drink, but Tommy's patience was wearing thin.

"Everybody's a comedian," growled Tommy, inching up towards the Brit and tapping him in the chest. "Listen to me; I'm missing twenty keys and a lot of cash…"

Kent's facial expression changed. Suddenly, he was apprehensive, and made a feeble attempt to distance himself from the newly-highlighted topic.

"Drugs, mate? It's a mug's game."

It was the wrong response. Tommy grabbed Kent by the collar and shoved him roughly to the floor, causing the man to yelp in horror. Then, he stepped over the prone man, trying to cut an intimidating presence before continuing his inquiry.

"What do you know about it?"

"Oi oi!" the Brit shouted. "What I was coming to was, there's some chef-cum-trumpetshifter who deals out kitchen of a hotel on Ocean Drive. He's been looking real pleased with himself lately. You could go and check him out..."

Tommy had no idea what a trumpetshifter was, but the rest of the information was a start.

"I will - and I'll be seeing you around." he replied, turning around and leaving Kent still sprawled on the club floor. The Brit lay there, momentarily disorientated, before futilely yelling at Tommy's retreating figure.

"Yeah, that's right. Go on - walk away, you mug. I'll knock your spark out!"

With another groan, he dragged himself up back onto the bar.

"Give me a drink-and where's that slut?"

* * *

Shaking his head, Tommy jumped into his Admiral to look for the "chef". After cruising around Ocean Beach for a while, he made a right turn and spotted a chef talking into a cell phone in one of the back alleys. Figuring out that he must have possessed a budget to afford the nifty gadget, Tommy reckoned he was the target. He jumped out of his Admiral and walked over to face him. The chef suddenly slammed his cell phone shut and gave Tommy an accusing look.

"Hey, whatchoo lookin' at?" he asked menacingly.

"You better start talking…" Tommy threatened.

"Hey, make me, you prick!"

"Fine, I'll make you." Tommy muttered under his breath as he faced the chef, fists ready.

Tommy Vercetti hadn't been in a major fist fight for fifteen years, thanks to his dedication to toeing the line and getting out of jail early: he had gotten into a couple of minor scuffles over trivial things in prison, and had won both skirmishes. But here he was, well pissed-off with his current situation, and he bobbled on his feet, ready to take his frustrations out on the chef.

The chef tried to draw first blood by aiming a kick at Tommy's stomach, but Tommy sidestepped and shoulder-charged him just as he was about to bring his foot through. He timed the shoulder-charge well and caught the chef off-balance, sending him tumbling to the ground. The chef got up quickly but Tommy followed up with a series of fast punches: although most landed on the shoulder, one smashed into his nose.

As the chef stood back, rasping in pain, Tommy went for the knockout blow. Lowering his head, he rammed it into the man's midriff, sending him flying into the nearby wall at full speed, rendering him unconscious. As he kicked the chef a few times more just for good measure, he grabbed the cell phone which had been dropped, wondering if any calls he would receive would give more information than the source that he had just belted. He turned back to the prone body lying on the ground.

"You had enough?" Tommy yelled at the unconscious chef.

But his actions were disturbed as a black man in a white suit sauntered up from the nearby street. He seemed strangely familiar.

"Oh, way to go, tough guy. Beat him to a pulp. That should make him real chatty," the man commented sarcastically.

"You want some, too?" Tommy threatened, raising his fists again, thinking the man was either backup or the law.

"Hey, chill. I know what you want, brother."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Tommy inquired.

"Your green - and my dead brother's white lady."

Then, he realized who it was. It was the guy in the chopper during the deal! Of course, the mention of the man's dead brother and the coke had helped, and he should've remember that distinctive white suit.

The man grinned, displaying a row of white teeth before continuing.

"Unfortunately, you just silenced our lead."

"Accidents happen. Get lost." Tommy snapped angrily in reply as he began to turn and walk back towards his Admiral.

"Hey, hey, whoa. No need to go 'Lone Ranger' on my ass. The way I see it - we two hombres in a strange town," the man called, and Tommy turned back around to stare at him. "We just need to watch each other's back."

"My back's just fine, brother." Tommy growled.

"You sure? Here, take this," the man said, handing Tommy a Colt 45. He then spun around and started running.

"Follow me!"

Tommy turned around, and saw three chefs all brandishing meat cleavers and knives, looking to avenge their friend. He obviously didn't want to be cut up and cooked in some soup, which meant that he was left with little choice but to follow the black stranger.

"This way!" called the man's voice.

Tommy turned around and sprinted after him. From behind him he could hear the steps of the chefs giving chase, but he really wasn't worried about getting caught - he had stayed in reasonable shape during his time in prison, and the chefs weren't exactly athletes. Ahead, the stranger cut left and exited the alley - Tommy put on one last burst of speed, and found himself facing a classy white Infernus sports car.

As he scrambled into the passenger seat, the man started speaking again, quickly pulling the Infernus from the parking spot as he did so.

"One thing you gotta realize about this town is that you gotta be tough. You gotta pack some heat. C'mon, the local gun shop's a few blocks away."

The man drove in silence down Ocean Drive, in the direction of the gunshop - which turned out to be the familiar sight of AmmuNation. The last time Tommy had entered AmmuNation, it was to buy the weaponry which he had used to kill the twelve men in Harwood. For a moment, he felt like disclosing such a fact to the black man beside him, but decided against it, feeling that a later time would be more appropriate. Instead, he remained silent as the Infernus pulled a U-Turn, and started heading back towards the Ocean View Hotel.

As Tommy got out, the man tossed him a couple of hundred-dollar bills and said:

"I'll go see what I can dig up. I'll be watching you, Tommy."

With that, the door slammed shut and the Infernus raced away back in the direction of Vice Point.

* * *

Back in his hotel room, Tommy found himself digesting more odd information. Who exactly was his failed business partner? And what trail had he followed to reach the same chef on Ocean Drive? Equally curious was how he had found out Tommy's living quarters, considering that Tommy hadn't told him where he was living for the time being - could it have been Sonny who had disclosed those details? Cortez? Ken, even?

And of course, what significance did the chef's cellphone have? Tommy pulled the gadget from his pocket and inspected it closely. It was fairly nondescript: a chunky black rectangle with a bland-looking screen. Fifteen years, and a lot had changed. Harry had taken a call from Sonny while the three of them were still at Liberty City International Airport, and Tommy had stared in disbelief when Lee grinningly informed him that phones could now be handheld. He would need to buy a charger for it, taking it out of the handouts he had received from both Mercedes and the mysterious stranger.

Deciding that no time was better than now to go find some kind of electronics store, he started walking back onto the street, in search of his Admiral.

Almost on-cue, his newly-acquired cellphone rang. Before he could say hello, the caller started speaking in a slightly-accented, built-on-the-streets voice.

"Hey Leo, I think we got a buyer for Diaz's merchandise. You gotta give him a ring, man, set up the deal, you know?"

"Where are you now?" Tommy asked, curious what path the conversation would take. He was hoping that the caller wouldn't react suspiciously to his voice, but it was too much for his rotten luck to wish for.

"You okay Leo? You sound kinda different."

"Just tell me where you are."

Tommy was hoping for a positive response, but he didn't get it.

"Who the hell is this? Put Leo on, man!"

Not good. The conversation was getting out of reach: Tommy attempted to rescue it with one more response, but to no avail.

"Leo's gone away for a while, he left me in charge."

"Screw you, man!"

Tommy cursed silently as the line went dead. He'd blown what appeared as a golden opportunity to find some names. But he'd gotten something out of it at least: maybe the man he saw at that party, Ricardo Diaz, the same man who had been mentioned during the call had been responsible for the bust-up of the deal. The mention of merchandise could be a support to the facts. Either way, he was going to find out. He got into his Admiral, and store hunting forgotten, started driving back to Ken's with his new-found information, hoping that the lawyer would be a little less edgy this time around.


	5. A Favour For The Family

Tommy drove back to Ken's office to find him asleep on the couch. _Probably finally getting some sleep after last night,_ Tommy thought. Still, deciding that finding more information was more important than Ken's physical well-being, he slammed the door hard for good measure. Ken woke up with a start, screaming.

"Aah! Oh, for god's sake, it's you! Oh jeez - I'm gonna need new pants!" he stammered, staring in horror down at himself. He looked back at Tommy in a panic.

"Hey, those psychos from up north - they've been on the horn, and they're coming down here soon. Now where is the goddamn money?"

Ken's look was wild - Tommy was starting to regret waking him up, because he really wasn't in the mood to witness another of the lawyer's potential meltdown.

"Relax, relax. We're not at that part yet." Tommy replied.

Ken rolled his eyes and started again in that bitter tone of his.

"Oh…I thought that you were taking care of this, I really did! And now those guidos say we gotta do them a favour."

"You mean I gotta do them a favour." Tommy replied sullenly. Ken smiled back weakly as he continued.

"Oh, of course that's what I mean. Do I look like I can intimidate a jury?" he asked, pointing at himself. "I couldn't even intimidate a child - and believe me, I've tried. Now, look. It's either that, or Forelli's cousin, Giorgio, gets five years for fraud. You gotta take these guys out!"

"I understand. Help the jury change their minds. Don't worry about it."

"No no no no no - NO! I tried that. The jury case didn't go well, so MAKE them change their minds." Ken urged, pulling out two sheets of paper and extending them to Tommy, treating the papers as if they were firecrackers.

So much for sitting down and working through the information, because Ken certainly looked in no mood to do so now. With a shrug, Tommy turned his heel and left the office.

* * *

He had barely made a step back outside when he was forced to dodge out of harm's way. An out-of-control Glendale had skidded off the road, running over an innocent onlooker. As the driver of the Glendale got out, muttering something about dumb Florida morons, Tommy noticed that the man who had been run over had been a construction work, holding a hammer. Deciding that the weapon might be of use to him, Tommy happily relieved the corpse of the hammer and took it with the Colt 45 that the mysterious man had given to him.

He glanced at the first sheet of paper, which displayed a fairly ordinary-looking middle-aged man. Along with the photo, there was a picture of a purple Admiral, and an address in Ocean Beach. Fairly straightforward - Tommy simply drove along in his Admiral and eventually as he neared the address, he did spot the man in question, as well as his vehicle, speaking to a woman on the sidewalk. Tommy took out his Colt 45, and as his Admiral roared past the juror, he pulled a mini drive-by on the juror's vehicle, connecting with a couple of shots - one pinged into the framework, and the other embedded itself into the front window. The juror screamed, and made a dash for his car as the woman hastily moved away in a different direction.

The juror had quickly entered the slightly shot-up Admiral and was about to drive off when fortunately for Tommy, a truck marked with the "Spand Express" construction logo came flying down the street. There was a loud screech, and from his rear mirror, Tommy spotted the truck crunch into the front end of the juror's vehicle, sending both vehicles spinning away in different directions. With that, Tommy briskly parked his Admiral, sprinted over to where the juror's now-wrecked car sat, and began unleashing the beast on the hood with his hammer. Terrified, the juror clambered out of the driver seat and started running off in the opposite direction to Tommy, wildly covering his head. Tommy didn't bother following him - instead, he continued focusing his fury on the car, but shouted one clear statement at the retreating back of the juror:

"Remember, guilty is a dirty word!"

One down, one to go, Tommy thought as he re-entered his own Admiral to find the second juror - another middle-aged worker, located in Vice Point, driving a brown Sentinel. Somehow, his little burst of thuggishness had not really attracted much attention, despite being in broad daylight - as it turned out, Vice City's approach to crime response was as liberal as Liberty City's.

Again, his task turned out to be simple: the correct Sentinel, at the right address. Tommy pulled up next to the Sentinel, and applied the same method as previous: he took out his hammer, and started bashing away. Eventually, the juror showed up. Upon seeing the ruined state of his car, he stammered:

"I can't believe this is happening!"

"Innocent till I say otherwise." Tommy said, moving slowly towards the juror.

The juror gave a frightened yell, before he too, ran off. Tommy shrugged - a surprisingly simple task, and a task which certainly resembled the work he had done for Sonny in earlier days. It was time to drive back in his Admiral to talk to Ken about the earlier information. But as he drove back towards Ken's office, his cell phone rang again, to his annoyance - and it didn't dissipate once he discovered who the caller was.

"Hey Tommy, it's Sonny, how's the sun tan?" Tommy's old boss asked in a fake-bright voice.

"I ain't got no sun tan." Tommy replied coolly, trying to keep the edge off his response. At the other end, Sonny was attempting the same process as he continued speaking.

"Well, you ain't got my money, either, so I'm wondering to myself, what are you doing? So, tell me, Tommy, what are you doing?"

Tommy's return this time was less cordial.

"I'm looking for the money, _Sonny_. Don't worry."

"I am worrying, Tommy, that's my style, because I seem to have this problem in my life with unreliable people," Sonny said, this time making no attempt to hide the hard edge in his voice; indeed, he sounded extremely flustered. "Don't be an unreliable person, Tommy, please. Do us both a favour. I'm looking forward to hearing from you."

_How did the git get my number?_, thought Tommy in annoyance. Nothing was adding up right rang almost immediately again. Sighing, Tommy answered it, only to be greeted with a cold and mysterious voice.

"Get to the payphone by the mall. The number is 838-4115."

Curious, Tommy decided to see what was going on - of course, he was hoping that such a call would be providing him with further information. Ken was going to have to wait.

Tommy tapped the numbers into the phone ten minutes later at the referred location, and was immediately met with the sound of a cold, foreign voice speaking into the receiver.

"Mr. Teal, your help in eradicating those out-of-towners was invaluable to business. I have more work for you, with a more 'hands-on' next job is taped under the phone."

The line went dead before Tommy could muster up a response. He gripped the receiver tensely in his hands for a moment as the call tone started sounding. _Mr. Teal? _Certainly the "out-of-towners" referenced to by the caller was describing himself, and the two dead Mafiosos. He'd relieved the cell phone from that chef, so the call was probably directed towards the man, just like the one he had received earlier. _What had the guy selling Diaz's merchandise asked of him? He'd asked for Leo...so Leo Teal?_ Tommy locked the name away in his head: it would probably be important in the future.

For now, he had to decide what to do regarding the job he had inadvertently received. There didn't seem much choice but to follow the trail - if he completed the task, perhaps more calls, with important information disclosed, would come his way.

He knelt down to inspect the label under the phone. There was both a small photo showing the face of the man, and a short message, which read: "Carl Pearson, Pizza Delivery Man. Kill him before he completes his 50 deliveries."

Why would he want to kill a pizza boy? Probably some sort of criminal or middleman, Tommy thought. Either way, he was going to get some cash; and presumably some pizza as well, as long as the pizza boy didn't end up too dinged. Spotting a nearby Faggio moped, he jumped aboard, and began the search. He had plenty of time; a 50-delivery pizza run wasn't going to be a short stroll in the park.

After about five minutes, Tommy spotted a man matching the photo presented to him. The man wore a yellow jumper and jeans, and was zipping around on his pizza scooter - no immediate indication of him being armed. _This must be the target¸ _Tommy thought. He turned the Faggio after the pizza boy. As he neared it, Tommy pulled out the Colt 45 from his pocket, and aimed a couple of shots at the pizza man's head. Not being an absolute dead-eye of marksman, he got lucky: the bullets struck the man either in the neck or the skull and he tumbled off the bike. Calmly, Tommy inspected the dropped bag, and was pleased by what he saw: a stack of hot, cheesy pizzas, even if a number had become disheveled by their ejection from the pizza delivery bike. Still, the food itself had been a luxury in prison: something usually acquired from things such as winning prisoner contests or doing guards big favours.

He checked inside the man's pocket and found a wallet containing an assortment of bills stuffed inside. Satisfied, Tommy sat down to eat a couple of slices of pizza, before he would drive back on the Faggio to retrieve his white Admiral, and find Ken.

* * *

When he arrived back at Ken's office, he found the lawyer in the middle of a conversation with the cowboy hat-toting man he had spotted at the Colonel's party.

Ken acknowledged him with a wave as he entered the room, and immediately started chattering.

"Avery, it goes without saying…Tommy! Tommy! Any progress?"

He didn't allow any opportunity for Tommy to open his mouth and speak however - clearly, this meeting with the cowboy was of some importance to him.

"No, no, no- tell me later, tell me later. Tommy, this is Avery Carrington-I believe you met at the party?"

"Not in person." Tommy replied, as he shook hands with Avery.

"Howdy." Avery greeted in an unmistakable Texan accent - no surprises there.

"Avery here has a proposition." Ken said.

"Haven't we got other things on our minds?" Tommy asked - but this time, Ken was in no mood to accept Tommy's opinion, and he angrily fired back a response.

"I'm trying to keep the wolves from the door, so could you please me some slack? I'm stretched like a wire, and even if I'm not dead by the end of the week, I'd like to think that I didn't die poor."

Tommy was somewhat taken aback by the lawyer's show of verbal resistance - and all he could do turn his back rather petulantly from the lawyer's glare.

"Now just calm down, both of you." Avery piped up, quickly cutting through the tension. He turned to address Tommy. "Son, you help me and any grease balls giving you a hard time, I'll see to it they take a long dirt nap."

Tommy, who had seated himself down on one of the couches, turned his gaze to the cowboy, paused and thought about the man's proposal for a moment, and then shrugged and relented.

"Okay. What could I do for you?" he asked.

Avery took out a map of Vice City, and pointed at a spot on it reading "SPAND Express Company".

"This delivery company's got its depot on some prime land. They won't sell. They're hanging on like a big old prairie rat, so we gotta go in there and smoke that vermin out. Head down there and stir up a hornet's nest-the security will have their hands full and then you can sneak in and put 'em out of business."

"And you could drop by Rafael's for a change of clothes. You might be there for a while, but yeah, go for it." Ken advised, trying to move quickly past their mini-dispute.

"Should be a riot." Tommy grumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"If the balls drop like they should, stop by my office sometime…" Avery added as Tommy departed.

Tommy was peeved about the entire situation, as he drove his Admiral in the direction of Rafael's once again. where he was provided with some embarrassing-looking Spand Express worker clothes: dark-blue overalls over his Hawaiian T-Shirt and jeans. From there, he drove off to the Spand Express Company located on the edge of Vice Point and Ocean Beach. Even before he arrived at his destination, he could hear the din of shouting voices and hoots - the place certainly seemed like a hornet's nest, just as Avery described.

The physical manifestation of the situation displayed about thirty workers yelling at the closed doors and gates of the company. A loudspeaker-operated voice was trying to restore order, but wasn't getting anywhere: most of the speech was being blocked out by the raucous calls of the workers. Tommy could barely make out the sound emitting from the loudspeaker

"Please disperse. The management will discuss any grievances in the appropriate manner."

When that didn't work, the voice increased in volume, to a point where Tommy could hear its diction without having to focus intensely on isolating the pertinent sounds.

"Please disperse! Go back to your homes!"

This second command was as futile as previous attempts to reason with the workers had been. Tommy was shocked that a riot hadn't already broken out - the furthest step taken by the workers towards releasing their unrest states-of-mind, was a little bit of gate-rattling. Still, having spent fifteen years in a prison where brawls could be started with the slightest evidence of a spark, Tommy decided that it was time for him to apply his experience and really start stirring the pot.

Moving himself to a spot on the company grounds which was especially filled with protesting workers, he knew that a bit of bustling with a few of the workers would probably be enough to set the entire thing off. A couple of steps in front of Tommy, stood a burly man was screaming obscenities in the direction of the locked-up gate. Tommy picked him out as a first target - and it was an easy one, since the man's back was turned and so he wasn't prepared when Tommy took a short run-up, and shoved him roughly into the workers in front of him. Then, spinning around, Tommy barreled sideways, sending the first thing he hit - a smaller, more normal-sized worker - flying as a result of his built momentum. Finally, with one more quarter-turn, he swung his fist at the first face he saw, and made fairly good contact. Before the struck worker could react, Tommy piledrived him into another mass of bodies, causing various admonishments of surprise and fury.

Meanwhile, one of the men who had been knocked over as a result of Tommy sending the first worker crashing forward, took offense to what he perceived as a cheap shot, and started in on his assailant. In response, the burly man in question quickly got over the shock of being sent to the ground, and fought back. A handful of men attempted to break it up, but then when another person jumped in from nowhere, probably keen to settle a past score, everybody was at it - chaotically either completely immersing themselves within the brawl, or still attempting to play pacifist.

Tommy had made his move so quickly that nobody had really taken the time to process the identity of the instigator to the conflict. And once Tommy saw that things had started to play out in the way he had anticipated, he quickly relegated himself to the edge of the massed crowd of punching, kicking, elbowing, grabbing people.

From his relatively-safe position among those who were less enthusiastic to jump into the middle of a scuffle, he could see that the gates had slowly opened themselves, and three or four security workers who had watched the scene from behind the gates, had emerged brandishing black nightsticks. He heard one of them yell over the din:

"Sticks out, boys! Let's crack some commie skulls!"

Of course even with nightsticks, it was hardly a smart idea for the security men to join the fray, even from the edges. They successfully managed to knock down a couple of the rowdy workers with well-aimed blows, but soon the attentions of the mob quickly turned once they realised the change in the situation. Within seconds, the four men had disappeared into the crowd, their nightsticks seized from them and blows relentlessly rained upon them.

Meanwhile, with the gate open, Tommy started turning his attention to one of the three SpandExpress vans parked behind the gate, hoping that others would follow his lead - and of course, they did. Soon enough, a group of workers had joined Tommy in rocking one of the vans side-to-side, until it eventually tipped over, hitting the ground with a smash. There was a massive cheer, and the other two vans were similarly set upon, with more workers arriving having pounded the security guards into submission.

By the time the workers finally turned their attention to the actual SpandExpress building which now lay unprotected before them, Tommy had decided that he'd done enough. Tugging off the uncomfortable worker overalls, he casually dumped them right on the ground, a couple of feet away from the unconscious security workers, before walking off back in the direction of Ken's office.

It had been fifteen years, yet havoc-causing, unlike searching for drug money, was as easy for Tommy as it had been the first time he had ever done it.


	6. Wild Caddy Chase

Needless to say, the Texan was pleased once Tommy described the events which he had brought about. After a quick chat, Tommy found himself up another contact - Avery had told him to drop by the next morning at the construction site in Vice Point which he had passed a few times - as it turned out, it was the scene of Avery's latest project, and no doubt also acquired through dodgy means.

After the cowboy left, Tommy finally delivered the information he had acquired over the course of the day over to Ken. He told the lawyer about the meeting with Kent Paul; the scrap with the chef on Ocean Drive and subsequent rescue by the black man who had been one of the partners in the botched deal; and the details of the three calls he had received on the phone which he had taken from the chef - of Ricardo Diaz's possible connection, the mini-hitman job he had performed and the strangeness of Sonny calling him. By the time he had finished talking, Ken looked flustered - again.

"Well?" inquired Tommy as the lawyer sat silent in his seat. Ken brooded for a moment, then started on his reply - which turned out to be nothing but a garble of words.

"Well, uh...this is all very interesting, Tommy...and I'll take a look into it, and y'know, check and see about the things you told me, but y'know, it'll probably take a while to get back to you since, uh, even you talked about how many criminals there are on the streets of this city...so, it's going to be _even_ harder for me to dig something out."

Naturally, Tommy was extremely unimpressed by Ken's attempt to stall. So he decided to up the ante.

"What the hell do you mean you don't know? Isn't this what you're supposed to be spending your pathetic life doing?" he roared, raising his tone dramatically from its previous volume.

"No no no no no!" protested Ken as he cowered in fear, recognising Tommy's anger. "Truth this, I don't know much more about this than you do! Sonny just called me up, like he did with you, right out of the blue, because I represented a couple of family members when they got in trouble down here..."

Tommy's voice lowered just a little as he raised his next inquiry, but his tone remained strident.

"Do you know about this fucking Ricardo Diaz? Clearly he knows whenever the fuck drugs are being moved around in this city."

"Hard not to know him around this part." replied Ken, a little less fearfully as he started explaining. "He runs a tight operation - he's done so since he showed up in Vice City a couple of years ago. He and Cortez are both meant to have a network of reliable distributors doing all the big deals in this town on their behalf, and from what it seems they generally stay out of one another's way."

"So you don't think Diaz would have taken an interest in the deal which Cortez set up for us?"

"I don't know. Diaz certainly would know of any deals which Cortez makes, the two probably have informants in each other's organisations, but I don't know whether Cortez has had deals he organised be disrupted before by an unwelcome third party."

"What about the dealer we were going to make the exchange with? You know anything about them?"

"As I told you, I wasn't provided with much sensitive information." Ken said, pulling a face. "There are a few guys who do, and two of those guys happen to be dead. All I know is that the two brothers we were dealing with, they weren't schmucks. Somebody would have had to get really deep to mess up things as they did."

"And what about Leo Teal?"

"Fuck if I know. The connections I have are with conspicuous criminals are thin enough; what chance do I have of knowing about the covert ones?"

Tommy's mood was better than it had been a few minutes ago, but the conversation had confirmed what he had already expected - that the lawyer would be of little use to him. Still, he felt that he had gotten off to a good start to his search, and he could build on it, starting with a meeting with Avery Carrington.

He addressed the lawyer once more, telling him to keep him informed, gave a curt nod and exited the office, planning for a quiet night back in his hotel suite.

* * *

Tommy was awoken early by the ringing of his room phone. Groaning, he rolled over and reached out to pick up the receiver.

"Hola, is this Mr. Vercetti?" asked a familiar voice on the other side.

"Yeah." Tommy answered sleepily.

"This is Cortez. You were at my party."

Tommy sat up, the drowsiness evaporating from his demeanour as he responded more sharply.

"Yeah. I remember."

"Mr. Vercetti, it was a most unfortunate incident that happened to your business deal."

"I know."

"I want you to know me and my people are doing their utmost to get to the bottom of it. If you'd like to talk to me more privately, you can find me at the boat, eh? Okay? Good day, senor."

It was certainly worth the early wake-up call. After dressing and forcing down a quick breakfast provided downstairs, Tommy drove himself over to Avery's construction site, planning to meet Cortez once he was finished with Avery. Upon arrival, he immediately noticed the elegant black Stretch limousine parked at the site. From a side window, a hand waved and as Tommy approached, the owner of the hand exited from the side door, grinning and with his hand outstretched, offering yet another handshake.

From the trunk, Avery produced a small case filled with money and handed it to Tommy: $1000 for yesterday's deed. Then with a knowing grin at Tommy's expression, he motioned for the latter to join him inside the luxury car.

"Come in and park yourself on the hide, son. Hell, my daddy used to say, never look a gift horse in the mouth, and by golly, he never did. Would you like a drop of the old Kentucky?" Avery asked, offering a bottle of whiskey in Tommy's direction.

"No thanks." Tommy replied, gazing at the car interior.

"A clean thinker!" exclaimed Avery with another grin. "I like that. Now the property business isn't all about high-falootin' paper pushing. It's all about dirt! And the will to claim that dirt! You with me, son?"

Tommy wasn't exactly 'with' the man, but he played along

"Oh yeah." he replied, pulling a face. Not detecting - or at least ignoring - the uncertainty in Tommy's voice, Avery proceeded onwards in his tone.

"Well, I need some tenacious bastard to let go of some dirt, and you look to me like the guy to persuade him."

"Persuasion's my forte."

"Yeah, he'll be down at the country club, down on the golf course. They don't allow guns, so his bodyguards won't be packing lawgivers. Go beat eight tons of crap out of him. Here now - I got you a membership and boy you're going to need more appropriate clothing." Avery chuckled, as he handed Tommy a card and dismissed him.

* * *

The store for his golfing clothes was Jocksports, which Avery had marked on a map for Tommy. When he arrived at the store, he mentioned Avery and was quickly led into a room and dressed in some typical golfing attire. Awkward, but so was prison. As long as he looked inconspicuous out on the course.

He drove his Admiral over to the Leaf Links Country Golf Club on the north side of the east island. There were metal detectors placed at the entry, which meant that he would have to leave his Colt 45 in the car. Moving through the entrance, he received no scrutiny from the presiding security men, except for a wave of his membership card. He paid for a hire of a Caddy golf cart at the nearby clubhouse, purchasing a map of the golf course as he did so. Avery had told him that the guy would be at the driving range. After picking out a few clubs (apparently club hire was included in his membership), he drove the Caddy over to the driving range as marked, and spotted who he assumed to be the target taking practice swings on an elevated platform. Three bodyguards (Tommy picked them out because of their matching suits) were standing in the man's vicinity. It would be a tough fight if he met them head-on: he'd probably need some luck to get to the man to do some "persuading".

Taking a deep breath, Tommy drove the Caddy a little closer over to the driving range, before exiting and taking out his golf club to creep towards the target. Slinging the club over his head, he decided that his plan was to somehow get access to the man, beat him up a little (enough to convince him) and then get away before receiving a return dose of punishment from the guards. Readying his golf club, he approached the first guard, a little isolated with the two others facing different directions, and aimed a swing at the back of a guard's head. As he tumbled over with a grunt of pain, Tommy then quickly ran at the man himself as the two others scrambled up the stairs to protect their boss.

Unfortunately, the target reacted just as quickly. Upon hearing the anguished shout of his first bodyguard, he had turned around and set off for his caddy. Tommy went after him, with both bodyguards in hot pursuit behind him. The target jumped down the set of stairs from the platform onto the ground and entered one of the nearby caddies, driving off, kicking up patches of grass and dirt. Tommy followed right behind him in a golf cart of his own. As he followed the target, he chanced a look behind him and spotted the two remaining bodyguards entering the single remaining cart: good for him as he wouldn't need to compensate for targets approaching him from two different angles.

Reaching his own target would be a tough prospect though. The Caddy was a beast to handle at speed and of course, didn't reach much of a top speed. Tommy knew that he'd either have to take risks in order to make up the distance or wait for the man to make a mistake: sooner or later, there'd be a divot or bump which he wouldn't see. But then again, the same would apply to him as well and he hadn't driven many vehicles, let alone a golf cart for fifteen years.

Eventually, he decided on taking an in-between option: holding back, trying to ward off anything launched from behind him, and then taking the risk when an opportunity beckoned. As he did so, he heard a splash and a couple of curse words somewhere behind him. As he quickly turned around, he saw that the chasing caddy had apparently lost control and slid into a nearby water hazard, with both passengers wading in the water, yelling at each other while the cart lay on its side, no longer able to function.

Smirking to himself, he set about following the target once more. He didn't get more than a half chance for the next ten minutes though: the man was handling the cart pretty well. But as Tommy began to think that it was becoming a rather useless wild goose chase, the man finally made a mistake: taking a turn onto a small bridge a little too wide, and overturning slightly, skidding around. Tommy hit the accelerator, only to realise he had his own problem: a sand bunker appeared in front of him.

Immediately, he did what his instincts screamed at him: get out as quickly as possible. He stepped up on the seat, and leaped off the cart as it hit the bunker with a loud crack. As he lay grimacing on the grass, rubbing the dirt off his elbows, he watched the abandoned cart flip as a result of the impact with the sand, expelling the clubs it had been holding before its momentum forced it on in the direction of the target's caddy. Tommy's eyes widened as he watched the two carts collided with a _thump_. Pulling himself onto his feet, he sprinted over the site of the crash, bending down to pick up a nearby four iron as he did so.

The man was crawling out of his wrecked vehicle: nose bleeding, blood pouring down from a couple of cuts on his forehead. His eyes opened in fear as he watched Tommy approach, brandishing the golf club.

"W-w-what do you want?" he stammered.

"Get out of town as soon as you can. That includes selling your land." Tommy responded coolly, as he took a few practice swings just to make his point.

"All right, fine. Just one thing…" the man replied: he had regained his composure back a little.

"What?"

"Call an ambulance…please?"

Tommy swung the club as if to hit the man in the side, causing him to cry out in horror, before he pulled out his cellphone and dialled a few numbers. He looked back at the man with a grin.

"They'll be here in twenty."

And with that, he turned around and walked off.

After a fifteen-minute stroll back to the entrance (where this time around, he earned a couple of suspicious looks from the security guards), Tommy drove back to Avery's in his Admiral and received another $500 for his deed. Not bad, Tommy thought: he'd earned some decent cash now since arriving in Vice City. Of course it still was nowhere near the amount he owed Sonny, but it was a start, and he had high hopes for his next contact. He sensed it would most likely be the information of Juan Garcia Cortez, that would lead him to the place he needed.

* * *

The Colonel, seated at a table which had been set up on deck, greeted Tommy with a smile as the latter appeared from below.

"Mr. Vercetti!"

"Colonel."

"Thank you for coming. Please sit."

."Lobster?" the Colonel offered, pointing a steaming plate in front of him, as Tommy pulled himself onto the chair.

"No thanks." Tommy declined as he stared at the large plate in a mix of wonder and disgust.

As Tommy settled down, Cortez immediately moved to business.

"I'm ashamed to admit that one of the causes of our mutual problem appears to have been the loose tongue of a man I used to trust. I've been carrying Gonzalez-" and Tommy recalled the plump man identified to him during the party"-for years, but now his incompetence reaches new heights! It is only right that you kill Gonzalez…"

"Did he do it? It's the money that's important to me." Tommy stated flatly, and Cortez smiled knowingly as he responded.

"For this kindness I'll reward you, and then we will find your money together. He will be at his penthouse, half-drunk probably. Use this…"

Tommy raised his eyebrows as one of the crew members passed Cortez a large chainsaw, which the Colonel subsequently slid slowly across the table to him. That was pushing it a little too high even for him, the Harwood Butcher…

* * *

Tommy drove his white Admiral over to Vice Point, to a classy looking building near the Malibu Club. As it turned out, there was minimal security for him to deal with. After taking the lift to the top floor, he found himself facing a balcony leading to a pool. Gonzalez stood in front of him, talking to his bodyguards. As he stepped onto the balcony, Tommy yelled out at Cortez's former henchman.

"I'm going to shut that big mouth of yours!"

"Eh! He's got a blade!" Gonzalez shouted, with fright in his voice as he spotted the chainsaw.

As Gonzalez began to run for the door, screaming, his two bodyguards made a run for him. Rolling his eyes, Tommy dropped the chainsaw and pulled out his Colt 45, from which he fired a couple of shots. He was too good a marksman to miss from such a distance; Gonzalez fell to the ground, lifeless, with holes in his forehead and his chest.

He picked up the chainsaw as the two henchmen made their way up the stairs to meet him, only to be stopped in their tracks by Tommy's raised blade.

"Do you want some?" he asked pointedly.

"No, no, amigo, we all friends, let's keep that thing away…" mumbled one of them, and both men stepped aside to let Tommy run back up to the higher floor in order to take the lift back to the ground floor.

But Tommy now had a bigger problem: it appeared that the police had been tipped and were onto him. He dove into his Admiral, and drove off in the direction of the Pay 'N Spray, an auto repairs and painting shop which he knew was perfectly happy to handle most heat (outside of police vehicles) - it had been a long-time favourite of crooks, dating even back to 1971 Liberty City. Two cop cars came flying through at the next turn, trying to intercept him, but Tommy swerved around them. Too easy: apparently the cops in Florida weren't exactly experts in catching criminals with wheels. He eventually reached the garage in nearby Vice Point. After turning over the $100 in cash to cover the bribe, they quickly repainted the Admiral in a new coat of cherry red. Tommy drove back to the Colonel's boat.

Colonel Cortez was waiting for him when he returned. It had appeared that he had finished the lobster: it had been dismantled and was being taken away, replaced by a plate holding the head of some animal. He greeted Tommy politely, as usual.

"Tommy! Come, join me. This looks delicious, huh? Tapir snout?" Cortez asked.

"Uhh…no, no. No, thanks." Tommy replied.

"Tommy, you are like a pampas breeze that has freed me from the stench of corruption, although, I must appear to mourn his passing and carry on with business as usual," Cortez complimented generously, as he produced a few notes and placed them in Tommy's hand.

"This isn't getting me any closer to my money…" Tommy grunted as he accepted the money. Cortez flashed that knowing smile of his yet again.

"Tommy, my friend, you are not in Liberty now. Here we do things differently. I will continue with my inquiries but in the meantime I have a valuable deal to close." Cortez explained.

"A favour for a friend, Cortez?"

The Colonel smiled.

"You're a good friend, Tommy. I knew you would not let me down. I need you to meet a courier who has obtained some valuable technology for me. Not today, but tomorrow morning at six o'clock sharp, near the elevator in the Washington Beach mall."

That meant knock-off time for the rest of the day for Tommy. His most recent deeds had earned him a fair bit of cash - perhaps it was time to see what the fuss was about regarding the non-criminal side of the city.


	7. Diaz's Guardian Angel

The next morning, Tommy was well awake by the time his alarm clock rang at five. After a quick shower and breakfast downstairs in his hotel suite, he realised that he wasn't packing much heat: just a Colt 45 which he had picked up from those guards over at SpandEx. Upon digesting that thought, he decided to speed over to AmmuNation and pick up maybe a submachine gun for the coming deal. Of course, he was hoping that the deal would go peacefully, but something told him he'd have to be cautious.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of the Ocean Beach gun shop $300 worse off, but holding an Ingram Mac-10 with six clips of ammunition.

He parked his Admiral at the mall carpark just outside Ken's office, and walked calmly towards the escalators. As he moved up to the second floor, he spotted the target. The man was looking away from him, but was holding a briefcase that was too conspicuous for Tommy to doubt.

As he approached, the man suddenly turned around to face him.

"Ze rain, she is tres wet zis time of year…"

"What?" Tommy snarled, as the mixture of French and English rushed through his head. He didn't notice the two French men who had arrived in the carpark above him, surveying the entire situation.

"Ah, comment?"

"Look, Cortez sent me. Just give me the damn chips." Tommy scowled: the early start hadn't agreed with him, and the last thing he wanted was to be chatted up by a dickhead with a French accent.

"Oh, d'accord…"

Tommy heard the sounds of several guns being loaded, and then, there he saw it: the two French special agents who had been watching the exchange from above. Now, they were pointing their 9mm Uzis at him.

"Freeze, imperialist American pig! Zat iz property of ze government Francais. 'And eet over!"

"You American idiot! They followed you here!" sneered the courier, and before Tommy could move, he brushed past his shoulder and ran off down the escalator.

By now, the special agents had commandeered ropes and had slid down to the same level that Tommy was standing. They kept their Uzis fixed on Tommy, who put his hands up. In the corner of the eye, he spotted the courier leave the entrance in which he had come from.

"Keep jour 'ands up…" snarled one of the agents.

Tommy remained silent as the two stood in front of him. One was producing a pair of handcuffs, while the other held him at gunpoint.

But then, the agent made the slightest mistake and Tommy took the opening. As the Uzi was swished to the side for a brief moment, Tommy made his move, shoulder-charging the gun-toting agent. The man screeched in alarm as he tumbled into a nearby bush. As the agent with the handcuffs reached for his own Uzi, Tommy swung around to the left and connected on a powerful right hook that sent the agent tumbling away to the side. With both French disorientated, Tommy sprinted forward down the escalator: he had to get to the courier. As he exited the mall, he saw the courier speed off on his bike: apparently, he had taken his time, probably confident (and Frenchly arrogant) that the agents would finish Tommy off. Taking one more quick glance over his shoulder, looking for a sign of the French agents, Tommy exited the mall.

* * *

His Admiral was still parked outside in condition: apparently, the men hadn't chosen to riddle it with holes. Next to it were two PCJ-6000 motorbike, presumably the mode of transport used by the two agents in tailing him: perfect in a high-speed chase situation. Tommy climbed onto the bike and turned the key which had been left in the ignition - and took the key from the other bike, just to ensure that he would not be disturbed by a bike for the time being. The bike engine turned on with a satisfying hum, and Tommy set off after the courier.

Although he was armed with a Mac-10, Tommy knew that it would be a difficult task to get the man. He'd have to shoot while riding at full speed on a moving vehicle, dodging traffic in the process. In that case, he reasoned that hitting the wheels would be a better bet. He followed the courier's bike for about three hundred metres down the street: the man was going fast but not at full speed. When the bike stopped to a halt at a red light, Tommy moved up a little and decided to go for the kill. He aimed his Mac-10 and the back of the man's head and fired.

Unfortunately, the light chose to go green at that very moment, and the bullet struck the back framework of the bike. The courier turned around, and his eyes widened upon seeing Tommy on the bike, just fifty metres behind him. He sped off, weaving between the two cars on the row behind him. Cursing his missed opportunity, Tommy gave chase. Luckily, the early-morning traffic in Vice City was light, at least compared to Liberty, and he had little trouble moving through the cars. He made steady ground up towards the courier, who was good on the bike, but not particularly polished on the turns. Because of that, Tommy was able to rein him in slowly.

As the courier turned back onto the long road that went down Ocean Beach, Tommy realised that getting the man now would be the best scenario: he was pretty close to Cortez, so he could get back there quickly in case any backup showed up for the courier.

By now, both of them were at about maximum speed on their bikes: Tommy knew that if he hit one of the tyres, the impact would be dramatic. And that was exactly what happened when one of his Mac-10 bullets pierced the back tyre. The tyre burst, and the PCJ's rear weight completely gave way. The bike skidded wildly and forced the courier off. As the man tumbled and slid along the road, Tommy took his time and slowed to a halt in front of the man as he stopped. Then, bending down, he pried the package from the unconscious figure of the courier and landed a couple of choice kicks in the man's private section before re-entering his bike to deliver the technology to Cortez.

* * *

As Tommy drove, his cell phone bleeped again. It was the mysterious voice again, telling him to get to a payphone in Vice Point, again providing a different number. _What an asshole_, Tommy thought. Shrugging, he decided to wait for later and entered the marina off to the Colonel's boat. The Colonel was waiting for him, and motioned him over to a quieter spot at the front of the boat, to talk. As they walked down the steps leading to a lower level on the boat, Tommy handed Cortez the technology had just acquired.

"Thomas, I appreciate your coming. Forgive me for getting straight to business. Diaz has asked me to oversee a minor business transaction." Cortez said.

"Let's hope it goes better than last time, huh?" Tommy replied facetiously, but in an unsmiling manner.

Cortez grimaced, but then managed a small smile as he continued.

"This is why I thought of you, my friend. I've dropped some protection at the multistorey car park. Pick it up-then go and watch over Diaz's men at the drop off. Gracias, amigo."

Cortez handed Tommy some more cash as he left. Token cash, really, but the information was more important.

* * *

Tommy drove over to the multistorey car park near the clothes shop Collars & Cuffs. On the first level, he spotted a familiar sight: the black man who had been the helicopter pilot in the deal and who had rescued him from the cutlery-wielding chefs. This time, he was leaning against his white Infernus sports car.

"Hogging all the action, I see…" the man joked.

"Look, you wanna do something other than just shadowing everywhere? Why don't you come along and show me if you're any use." Tommy angrily retorted.

"I might just do that. The name's Lance, by the way."

"Tommy Vercetti. Let's go."

Lance stopped for a moment, produced a Ruger assault rifle and handed it to Tommy. Then, the two of them got entered his Infernus and drove off to the deal.

* * *

Lance wasn't in much mood for talking about 'business", so Tommy was left to think silently as they drove to the location of the deal. _Lance_. Was the man following Tommy with information provided to him about the situation? How much did Cortez know about him? Would he be willing to spill any beans on him? And how much could he really depend on Lance? And what connections did Lance have to Diaz? Did he work for Diaz? There were a lot of questions to find answers for, but they wouldn't be received easy.

The deal was in an alleyway on Ocean Drive, about a block away from where Tommy had stoned the chef. The two of them arrived at almost the same time as Diaz and his men, who pulled up in a white Admiral almost identical to Ken's. Diaz exited, and his two guards followed him: all three were carrying Uzi 9mms. Diaz walked up to Tommy. For a moment, they sized one another up and glared. Finally, the drug baron spoke.

"You must be Cortez's new gun."

"Until more gainful opportunities arise." Tommy replied, maintaining eye contact. Diaz broke it, turning away with a contemptuous snort.

"They'll be here any minute - we both better get a good vantage point." Tommy said, turning to Lance.

"OK! I'll take the balcony; you get the roof across the yard." Lance replied, and they both headed for their positions.

The Cubans pulled up in their gang vehicle, a Hermes painted stylishly with flames adorning the sides. There were just two of them, holding Tec-9s. They got out, and immediately entered negotiations with Diaz. Diaz had produced a small case filled with either product or money, which he lay on the ground beside him; the Cubans did the same.

Tommy aimed down the sights of his Ruger, looking carefully around the area for anything suspicious. A couple of minutes in, he spotted a brown lowrider pull up in the direction of the deal from the main street. Taking his cue from Lance, who opened up on the car with gusto, Tommy began shooting.

The passengers of the car, two gangsters with the same weapons as the Cubans, exited and started firing at the Cubans and Diaz's men.

"Haitians! They're busting the deal!" Lance yelled.

Diaz's men fired their Uzis at the Haitians, and took both down. But the dead men were quickly replaced by another Haitian lowrider, along with a van full of Haitians. They were quickly out and firing too. One of Diaz's men collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed by the bullets. Diaz and his remaining bodyguard took cover behind their Admiral, which surprisingly seemed unfazed in receiving the bullets fired from the Haitians.

"Diaz's men are getting cut down!" Tommy yelled.

"These Haitians think they can take RICARDO DIAZ!" Diaz screamed, returning fire at his assailants.

Tommy fired his Ruger carefully at the Haitians, picking them off one by one while Diaz's wild spray took two more. Lance however, was having trouble. A couple of Haitians were concentrating their fire on him, forcing him to dive and roll around, avoiding the bullets until Tommy cleaned things up.

After the first wave, Tommy realised that the Haitians really meant business. A van zipped up, this time from the other end of the alley, but Tommy was ready, shooting a passenger out through the front window. Lance, Diaz and his remaining bodyguard had the exiting passengers covered. The Haitians searched for one more option. Yet another lowrider came charging from the main road, sliding to a halt, but once again, some accurate combined fire made quick work of the men inside.

But just as Tommy thought everything was going to be fine, two Haitian bikers turned up on dirt bikes. One of them grabbed Diaz's money as he sped past, roaring into the next alley, and Diaz shouted furiously:

"MY MONEY!"

Weapons rained upon the escaping biker, but hit nothing. As the three others fired, Tommy took the opportunity to pop the second Haitian. He dropped, leaving his dirt bike and dropping his Uzi.

"Don't just stand there, you pricks, chase that Haitian dickhead down!" Diaz shouted furiously, waving his Uzi about.

Tommy hastily dropped down a couple of steps before making the leap down to the ground. As he sprinted towards the Sanchez, he grabbed the 9mm Uzi, figuring that the weapon would provide more accuracy if he was going to fire it from the bike. With a grunt, he forced the Sanchez up, clambered aboard and set off after the fleeing biker.

He realised that he'd have to make up some ground. He spotted a cardboard ramp up ahead, and pulled his Sanchez straight so he could hit the jump. Leaning upwards a little at the last moment, he earned a little extra hangtime, and by the time he landed, the biker was within firing distance

Steadying his Uzi, he aimed carefully at the biker. It was difficult multitasking: aiming a submachine gun while trying to guide a dirtbike through alleyways was no piece of cake. The first burst alerted the fleeing biker, who started swerving left and right as he continued speeding through the alleyway. But Tommy was doing all the running and with the last rounds of his clip, he made contact. The biker toppled to the ground, bullets decorating the back of his head. Tommy retrieved the case of money, and rode back to Diaz. As he handed Diaz (already sitting around in his Admiral) his cash, Diaz had plenty of positive words with him.

"I live! Dickheads!" announced the drug lord gleefully. "And it's all down to you! What is your name?"

"Tommy." Tommy calmly replied.

"I see you soon, amigo, I think!" Diaz called as he drove the Admiral off.

Tommy shrugged, and gazed around looking for Lance, only to discover that yet again the black man had pulled a disappearing act.

"Shit. Where's that guy Lance?" he muttered, scanning the area for a second time but finding nothing.

But it didn't matter, at least for now. Diaz had paid him with some of his own money, a good $1000 in all for his work. Lots of green, Tommy thought as he decided to answer the phone call that "the man" had told him.

* * *

Upon picking up the phone at Vice Point, once more, to his surprise, the cold voice spoke to him:

"My compliments on a job well done Mr. Teal. My client was very pleased. I have more work for you with a more 'hands-on' approach. Your next job is taped under the phone."

Tommy inspected the label taped under the phone. It read "Mrs. Dawson will be leaving the jewelery shop in Vice Point soon. Kill her. It must look like a car accident."

Tommy shrugged at this weird job. He decided that he'd need a bulkier vehicle for the job, and that vehicle was easily acquired as he jumped a Rancher four-wheel drive, forced the driver out and sped off towards the jewelery shop, just nearby. He spotted a woman walking out of the jewelery shop to her yellow Comet sports car. Since there was nobody else in the jewelery store, Tommy bet that the woman was his target.

Tommy gunned the Rancher towards the Comet. As Mrs. Dawson turned right, Tommy t-boned her car with a fierce smash, and sent it spinning into the fence, and flipping so hard that it went straight into the water. Easy peasy, Tommy thought. But how was he going to get paid? He headed back to the phone, and was surprised to discover a briefcase full of money stashed there. Tommy counted it to be $2000. Not bad at all for killing a woman driving her yellow sports car, Tommy thought. As he dumped the Rancher in a nearby street, his phone rang, and a familiar Colombian accented voice spoke.

"Tommy, it's Ricardo Diaz, I want to thank you for looking out for me my man. I ask that prick Cortez, he say you the real deal, my friend, why you not come see me. I need a guy like you. All I have now is dickheads, dickheads everywhere, yo. I make you real rich."

Tommy was about to ask how he was going to get to Starfish Island with the bridge closed when the phone snapped shut. Sighing, Tommy drove over to Starfish Island, and to his surprise, the bridge had reopened. Diaz's mansion was the first property to the left, and it was a lavish-looking one. Taking a deep breath, he trotted up the stairs, ready to receive his first mission for Vice City's drug baron.


	8. Shark Hunting

Ricardo Diaz was in the mood. He was ready to fight. He drew his fists up, leering down and shouting, psyching out his opponent.

"Come on, baby, go! Yeah! Yeah! Argh! Stupid horse!" the drug baron snarled, as he stepped back, glaring at the wooden horse.

"I'll chop your head off! Grr…" Diaz yelled, before he knocked the horse to the ground with a kick. He turned around, and asked one of his men who had brought Tommy in.

"Who is this dickhead?" Diaz grunted, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"Tommy Vercetti. You remember me." Tommy replied, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Excuse me. I'm a little anxious." Diaz apologised, pacing around the room. "Never trust a goddamn horse! You do a good job - you work for me now."

"I work for money." Tommy responded. He realised as he spoke, that annoying the drug lord in his current state probably wasn't a good idea. Fortunately for him, all Diaz did was glare and bark a retort back.

"As I said, amigo, you work for me now. Shut up."

"Some Judas has betrayed me. He thinks I don't know how much money I should be making, but stealing 3% is as good as stealing 100%." Diaz snarled. He punched the wall angrily, causing Tommy to retreat just a little.

"No one does this to me. NO ONE!" the drug lord cussed angrily.

"You follow him from his apartment and you see where he goes! Use my car, you'll need a fucking rocket to actually do damage to it. Later, we will kill him."

With that, Diaz tossed Tommy a set of keys and stalked off, presumably to get onto someone else's case.

* * *

Still shaking his head at the man's antics, Tommy entered the white bullet-proof Admiral that Diaz had let him use. He drove over to the place on the map that Diaz had marked, with the possible escape route of the thief. Getting out, he parked his Admiral at the likely escape area, and walked all the way back to the entrance of the thief's house: it was more like a flat in an apartment block.

Starting off, he took a look through the window. Nothing there. He turned around, and spotted a guy staring him down from a flight of stairs above.

"Ooh shit!" the man yelled, and ran off.

Tommy quickly followed him, but as he ascended the last stair to the rooftop, he was forced to duck from a burst of Ruger fire. As it turned out, it was just in time: if he'd been just a little slower, he would have been minus a head. From his cover, he noticed that the man was wearing a jacket with a shark logo: that meant that he was a member of the Sharks, the gang which had previously run the scene on the eastern island of Vice City, but were now basically confined to Prawn Island.

"Too slow, grandad!" the Shark yelled, before running off again.

Tommy stood back up and gave chase, riled a little by the insult but more annoyed at himself for getting in such a position. He gained a little on the gangster, but then the man turned around once more, choosing to fire his Ruger at a couple of explosive barrels nearby, setting them on fire.

This put Tommy in a dilemma: the fire now immersed the area which covered a gap in between the two buildings, meaning he had two choices: dive through the fire, or jump in between the buildings. Eventually, Tommy decided that he preferred a ten-metre fall over risking being set alight (it had happened once in prison during a nastier scuffle and he hadn't enjoyed it). Taking a deep breath, he sprinted towards the gap, and centimetres before he fell off, pushed off hard with his right foot. He barely made the distance: in the end, he was forced to grab onto the ledge and pull himself up before continuing after the Shark, who had now reached the end of the apartment complex. Tommy watched the man leap off the building, so he assumed there was something to break his fall further down.

As he approached the edge, he watched a BF Injection pull away, the Shark standing on the back, now jeering at Tommy while taking pot-shots with his Ruger. Tommy trotted up to the edge of the building and discovered that he was right: a dumpster filled with rubbish bags lay there, begging for him to jump in. Sighing, he hopped off the edge. The filled garbage bags offered a soft landing spot.

Climbing out gingerly, he moved over to unlock the doors of Diaz's Admiral. Tommy followed the buggy very carefully, and since the Admiral was bullet-proof, didn't have to worry about the bullets being fired at him by the Shark. Eventually, the BF Injection reached Prawn Island, and since there was no bridge access to Downtown, Tommy knew this was it. Turning into a side alleyway, he watched the buggy pull up to one of the nearby run-down buildings. The thief quickly exited and ran inside, with the driver following soon after, but Tommy didn't care. He drove back to Diaz to tell him where the thief was storing his money.

* * *

When he returned to the mansion, he found Diaz in a rage once more: this time it was being directed at one of his men through a phone

"What kind of incompetent fool are you?" Diaz screamed. He continued cussing ("FOOL! FOOL! FOOL! FOOL!") before he tossed away the phone in another rage and finally turned around to greet Tommy.

"What, Ricardo?" Tommy asked plainly.

"These idiots - they're always trying to screw you. That's the problem with this business. What do you think you're doing? These pricks have failed me miserably. Soon any mom and pop will think they can sell gallo in Vice City. What next, huh? The stinking Mafia?" Diaz paused to pace around the room. Tommy grinned: it would be a humourous situation to witness once Sonny finally showed up.

"That gang place is a fortress at ground level, so Quentin here - Quentin! QUENTIN!" Diaz barked.

Tommy's mouth dropped open but then quickly shut up as he watched Lance stride over to join them.

"He'll fly you over the area. Eradicate them!"

All of a sudden, Diaz turned around and started spitting his curses in the direction of a different man:

"What do you think you're doing?"

Tommy left Diaz to his screaming and yelling to walk up to the helipad on the mansion rooftop with Lance. As they both climbed aboard the chopper, Tommy asked, amazed:

"What are you doing here?"

"Hey, I've been asking around and it's obvious that Diaz jumped the deal and iced my brother."

_Well that makes things easier if it's true_, thought Tommy. Still, he exclaimed his indignation.

"And he'll kill you too!"

"I can take Diaz!" Lance fired back.

"No - listen to me!" Tommy remarked pointedly. "I'll handle Diaz - he's beginning to trust me."

Lance shrugged, and then reached into the back seat, dragging out a military-issue M60 machine gun. Smirking at the look on Tommy's face, he tossed it over, along with a large box full of clips. Then, he readied the helicopter for takeoff.

"One thing puzzling me. What's with 'Quentin'?" Tommy yelled as Lance gently nudged the helicopter from the H-pad.

"I dunno, I always kinda liked it, Quentin Vance…" Lance replied over the noise of the chopper.

"Vance? Your name's Lance Vance?"

"Hey! I got enough of that at school!" Lance snarled

"Lance Vance. Poor bastard," Tommy spoke mockingly. Then he asked:

"Where the hell are we headed anyway?"

"Prawn Island. You ever fired one of those from a whirly?"

"No, but I'll get a bit of practice on the way though."

Tommy peered down below. There were a few boats for him to have a shot of, and he could see a couple of Sea Sparrows in the distance. Squinting, he aimed the M60 at the boats and fired a stream of bullets that connected and sent one of them spinning wildly downwards into the ocean. As Lance's helicopter soared past the now crash scene, Tommy turned his sight around to see the pilot dive out of the Sparrow and plop into the sea. As the helicopter flew over Leaf Links, Tommy managed to peg a couple of golf caddies with the heavy machine-gun as well.

"You're a real asshole, Tommy." Lance shouted as they left the carnage below them.

"Okay, we're almost there. We'll make a couple of passes. So take out as many guns as you can. Then I'll set you down, and you're on your way."

Tommy nodded, and quickly stuffed a new clip into the M60. The machine-gun was capable of spitting out about 250 high-calibre rounds every minute, and he had plenty of it to burn.

Lance manoeuvred the helicopter up near the rooftop of the first gang building (the one Tommy had seen the thief enter), where about eight men stood with Tec-9s. As they started firing, Lance yelled some unhelpful advice as bullets pinged into the helicopter's framework.

"Damn! This is a war zone! Take out some of those gunmen!"

Tommy didn't have to aim too carefully: just point in the general vicinity and let the recoil do the rest.

Lance lowered the chopper down a level, where Sharks were streaming from around the back of the building, trying to get a shot at the copter. This proved to be more difficult: Tommy had to pick his spots more rather than just spray at an exposed roof filled with gangsters. Fortunately, the Tec-9 fire coming from the gangsters was pretty ineffectual, and eventually Tommy had dropped all the targets.

The next area was harder, since it was a wide space. There were a couple of Bobcats and Gang Burritos parked around with Sharks taking cover behind them. As the helicopter closed in, Tommy spotted another one was driving towards the area as well, so he began pouring fire down on it: bullets ripped through the windscreen and when a couple managed to find the gas tank, the vehicle was engulfed in a fireball. Tommy turned his attention to the gang members out in the open. More bullets struck the chopper.

"We're taking hits, here, man!" Lance yelled.

_No kidding_, Tommy thought, as he continued firing the M60, ducking occasionally to dodge any bullets and to reload. By now, he had killed most of the men without vehicle cover so he turned his attention to the vehicles.

One-by-one, he blew each one up, frying all Sharks in the explosion radius. The M60 was one vicious beast - Diaz certainly knew things about destruction. The two remaining Sharks were apparently on a suicide pact: they remained on open ground, and were easy pickings for Tommy.

This time there were several Sharks standing on a rooftop, but more tightly packed and with several walls to take cover behind. More bullets planted themselves into the chopper: one flew by Tommy's head and embedded itself into the wall behind him. He didn't know how long the chopper could last.

"Hey! This thing ain't cheap to fix! Take them out!" Lance screamed in a panic, taking a couple of swerves of evasive action.

Tommy quickly cleared out the area with his M60, and fed a new clip into his machine gun as they flew on to the next area, a building with two open levels: men on both. However, Tommy was very used to the gun by now, and had them covered from long-range before they could get within range, and the remaining Sharks were mop-up.

As Lance swung the helicopter back to the spot where they had started their assault, the two saw that the thief had emerged onto the roof, his two right-hand men beside him. All three were packing Ruger assault rifles: much more effective in taking down a helicopter. Over the noise of the chopper, Tommy could hear the man utter a faint yell:

"You're on my turf, asshole! You're going down!"

Lance took another bout of evasive action from their stream of bullets, and that gave enough time for Tommy to pick all three of them off.

"Okay, you're on your own from here. Get the cash and I'll come to pick you up. Good luck, brother!" Lance panted, patting Tommy on the shoulder.

Tommy took two clips of M60 ammo and jumped out of the helicopter hovering just over the ground. When he was out, Lance flew the chopper just outside the movie studio to wait for recently acquired 9mm Uzi, and since the Uzi had better control and accuracy, he fitted the clips of the Tec-9 into the Uzi and pocketed the rest. Then he heaved up his M60 and cleared one final man standing at the top of the stairs leading to the rooftop. After relieving the Ruger ammo from the dead Sharks' leaders, he retrieved the briefcase of money. Lance, seeing Tommy waving his machine gun, quickly flew over to pick him up and they gave each other a high-five as they flew back to the mansion.

Unsurprisingly, Diaz was very pleased and he paid Tommy quite a generous sum for his work: $3000. Working for the drug baron was definitely a dangerous business but it paid too well for Tommy to care. And if things turned out as he hoped, the search might be quicker than he had initially expected it to be.


	9. The Fastest Boat

After the non-stop action of the his first few days, Tommy found himself with a slight break in his activity. Neither the Colonel nor Diaz had any work for him, so he visited Ken a couple of times just in case there was something worth hearing (there wasn't), and scouted a little for some property he could buy as his cash pool increased, since his hotel stay was apparently one week. His mood improved even further as he received the radio announcement that the hurricane warning was over: the bridges to the western side of the city were once again open. After taking his time to explore that particular side of the city (using several stolen vehicles), Tommy eventually decided to go back and see Diaz.

* * *

This time around, he arrived at the back of the mansion and after searching the inside of the mansion and Diaz's office, he found the coke baron outside, holding a regular chrome-plated shotgun and firing into the air. As he turned around, he nearly poked out Tommy's eyes with the barrel, cackling madly as he spoke.

"Not so pleased with you NOW, huh? Ahahaha, ahahaha."

"Whoa! Watch where you're waving that thing!" Tommy exclaimed, as Diaz continued to wave the shotgun barrel around.

"No more pigeon shit on my car, eh Tommy!" Diaz asked in a calmer tone, still looking pleased with himself.

"I guess not." Tommy replied, stifling a laugh.

"You're damn right. Now listen, you know who owns the fastest boat on the east coast?"

"Not off-hand, no."

"ME. And I want it to stay that way. Every smuggler from here to Caracas has one dream, a faster boat. Rumour has it the boatyard has just completed a vessel for some Costa Rican dickhead. And Tommy…I WANT THAT BOAT!

As Tommy prepared to walk off, Diaz started shouting again.

"Ah! I thought I got you. Where'd you come from? PIGEONS! Boom! Aah!"

"I think your pigeons are back." Tommy called out as he walked off, leaving the drug baron to rid himself of his scourge.

Tommy had discovered the boatyard early on in his Vice City travels (Ken had pointed it out on the way to the fateful drug deal), so finding the place wouldn't be a problem. But he was pretty sure that there would be men guarding the boat (as Diaz had said, every smuggler wanted a faster boat), so he wasn't going to take any chances with storming in.

When he arrived at the boatyard, he was unsurprised when he discovered that he was right. There were several leather-jacket-wearing gangsters patrolling the entrance, equipped with Ruger assault rifles. Tommy cursed. It was going to be a difficult task to get in there, steal the boat and avoid being shredded in the process. He parked his Admiral next to a van near the boatyard, and then from the open window of his Admiral, took out his own Ruger. If he aimed well and aimed quickly, Tommy guessed that he could gun down the three men standing around at the entrance. But the distance was a bit of a stretch, and doubtless, there would be others lurking who would come and investigate after the initial shots were fired.

Taking a deep breath, he aimed down the sights of his Ruger and fired at the first gangster: hit, as the man held his stomach and collapsed to the ground. Tommy switched to the second man before he could react to his fallen buddy, and got him in the chest twice. The third man started yelling, drawing attention before Tommy silenced him as well with a headshot. As he waited for more hostiles to show up, Tommy inserted a new clip into his assault rifle. Men started to stream out of the building: they were all clutching Rugers and were tightly-bunched together. This was a good thing for Tommy: all he had to do was point and hold onto the trigger, trying to keep the recoil honest. Men fell quickly.

By now, the remaining few gangsters had figured where the hidden assassin was coming from, and they rushed the Admiral. Tommy picked them off one by one, but had to duck a couple of times to avoid bullets that he assumed were in direction of the one open window and his one vulnerable spot. He ended up polishing off the men without injury.

Reloading his Ruger, he slowly moved towards the boatyard building, pocketing Ruger ammo as he did so. Turning around the corner, he found no more assault-rifle-wielding gangsters, but there were a group of mechanics standing next to a screen and a keypad. They put their hands up as Tommy approached them pointing the rifle at them.

"W-what do you want?" called out one nervously.

"How 'bout you fuck off and let me use that keypad?" Tommy shot back.

The men nodded and at gunpoint, ran off. Tommy walked up to the keypad and took a couple of jabs at the keys, trying to figure out what they did. He quickly discovered that one key lifted the boat down, another one lifted it back up, and a couple of others attached and detached the boat. Now that he understood how the keypad worked, he hit a couple of keys, dropping the boat down into the water.

Tommy wasn't having it easy yet: now there were several fresh backup gangsters running into the shed. Thankfully, none of them had Rugers but they still had Tec-9s. Tommy ducked behind one of the boats in the shed, and decked them with his Ruger in a prolonged spray of gunfire. Hearing police sirens wailing in the distance, he made a run for the Squallo II speedboat, and set off.

As the stolen speedboat ripped through the water, three Predator police boats showed up, heading in his direction. But once Tommy had familiarised himself with the controls of the boat, it was easy for him to outrun the law enforcement with the superior speed of his Squallo and reach Diaz's mansion safely, getting out and going to meet Diaz to receive his payment.

* * *

However, his mission was not quite over yet. He found Diaz in the TV room, screaming as usual, but this time, it wasn't at any pigeons or any of his men.

"Eject! PLASTIC CRAP! You doing this to me?" shouted the drug baron at the rectangular metal object that lay motionless in front of him.

"Who do you think you are, you piece of plastic SHIT! Argh! SCREW YOU!" he bellowed hoarsely and before Tommy could calm him down, he seized a nearby Colt 45 and fired. The VCR continued to ignore him; instead it ejected a puff of smoke, and immediately afterwards, began exuding the smell of burnt metal. Turning around to Tommy, he explained himself, a stubborn look on his face:

"It eat my favourite El Burro movie, it die! What else could I do?"

"It's probably not plugged in." Tommy replied, keeping a straight face.

"What?" Diaz stammered. He bent down to check the power cords: Tommy was right.

"Damn-no matter," he said with a shrug, standing back up. "I can buy a hundred more. Now Tommy, each month a freelancer sails into Vice City and moors his yacht. He sells his cargo to the first boat. I want you to take the speedboat and beat all other shitheads to it, and then you bring the cargo here, okay?"

_No wonder he wanted that boat, _thought Tommy as he walked back out to the Squallo he had just stolen. He was surprised to see that during the short time he had been away, Lance had clambered onto the boat and was now stretched lazily on the front seat, smirking at him. As Tommy joined him on the boat, annoyed about how Lance had shown out of nowhere for the third time, they started talking.

"Let me guess, you thought I could use a guardian angel." Tommy said, as he crouched down and prepared to man the driver's seat..

"I'm just saying you need to let me in there, my man. Now you can feed me all this 'lonely tough guy' crap, but I know one day I'm gonna save your ass, and you're probably gonna kiss me!" Lance replied.

"Wacko." Tommy grunted

"Hahaha!" Lance grinned, as they drove the boat off.

"We got some competition!" Lance yelled, pointing at four speedboats which had just sped past their position. Appropriately, he had brought his own Ruger along for the ride.

So Diaz's cargo was hot property. Tommy knew that the Squallo could outrun all the Speeders they were to race, but he'd have to be careful: the occupants' on the other boats would almost certainly be busting out heat as well.

"So Tommy, we know it was Diaz who busted our deal…so why the hell are we running errands for him?" Lance yelled.

"The more we learn now, the less we have to learn when we take this town over!" Tommy replied, raising his voice to overcome the sound of the waves.

"I like your style, man. Real fresh."

They kicked out west alongside a section of the Leaf Links golf course, before turning back inland, only to be given an unfriendly greeting by two of the boats. They had set up, one next to the other, leaving little space for the larger Squallo to go through.

"It's time for the Lance Vance Dance!" Lance yelled, firing his assault rifle at the passengers on both boats.

Tommy thought quickly. He could either wait for Lance to pick off all the gangsters aboard the boats and risk losing the race to the other two boats present elsewhere, or he could barge through the middle and take his chances with being shot. Although he wasn't intentionally disrespecting Lance's markmanship, he took the second option. Gunning the accelerator, he took a deep breath and lined the boat up to go in between the two Speeders.

As the Squallo neared, the drivers on the two rival boats now had their own dilemmas. They could either block the plate and try to stop the runner from scoring, risking the possibility of being upended or capsized, or they could scatter and give chase from behind. As the Squallo neared, Tommy got what he was looking for. One Speeder took the safe option and squared away, while the other stayed put.

"Hang on! This could be a wild one!" Tommy shouted to Lance, and both of them ducked, with Tommy keeping his foot hard on the accelerator.

As they passed through, they heard the massive roar of the three boats' engines, and water sprayed all over their backs, kicked up by the gunfire.

"Fuck! I can't believe that worked!" Lance yelled triumphantly.

His joy was cut off though, when a stray bullet flew and plugged him direct in the elbow. Dropping the Ruger, he started swearing loudly in pain.

"Shit! Argh! Fuck! I can't hold the fucking gun!" he screamed, as he dropped the assault rifle, letting it clank onto the seat.

"I'll shoot!" Tommy cut in, trying to keep his composure. "Can you drive?"

"I think so. But we either gotta be quick in the switch or we balls it out to the finish. I think we should take the second option!"

"All right. Hold on!"

Luckily for them, that seemed to be it. For the rest of the journey, the two were unhindered on their way to the destination.

"You all right Lance?" Tommy asked as they climbed out of the boat to meet the freelancer.

"Yeah, I'm fine." grunted the man, still clutching his elbow. "I think I should still drive though - those guys aren't going to give up that easily."

"Who are they?"

"Cuban gangs. Trusting them, they'll bring back even more men."

They quickly exchanged Diaz's money for several large briefcases worth of cargo. As they prepared to drive off again, Lance alerted Tommy: he had been right; the Cubans had been sitting back and waiting for an ambush.

Now, the two Speeders who they hadn't tangled with were approaching them from behind as they left the freelancer yacht.

"Watch yourself; they're coming from all over!"

Picking up the Ruger, Tommy began firing at the first gunner, trying to hit him. But hitting a moving target while contending with the constant rocking of the boat from the waves was extremely difficult: luckily, the same applied to their pursuers.

"Was it that hard to hit them when you were shooting?" he called to Lance.

"Course it was, otherwise I would've cleared out both boats and you wouldn't have needed to try that crazy-ass stunt." Lance replied.

"A'right. Get back to Diaz's as fast as you can."

Tommy spent a full clip and was burning through his second when he finally made contact. A couple of bullets hit one of the gunners in the chest, sending him tumbling over the edge of his boat.

"Sleep with the fish!" Tommy yelled, before ducking to reload the Ruger.

Another speedboat came from the right, trying to ram them, but Tommy was spraying wildly in the boat's direction, pinning the gunner down. The Cuban tried to sneak his head up: bad mistake, as Tommy's bullets smashed into it, blowing it up in a mass of blood.

"There's more where that came from!" Tommy yelled again while wincing at the man's violent death.

Afterwards, the boat had little trouble to deal with, until they reached waters near the Malibu Club.

"There are gunmen on that jetty!" Lance advised.

Tommy saw them too: a line of about eight men waiting for the boat to get in range. As the Squallo neared, Tommy took a few pot-shots: he got lucky, wounding a couple. The rest readied their weapons for fire, and once again, Lance and Tommy were forced to duck and blindly pray for their lives. Fortunately, they got through only with more bullet holes in the speedboat's smooth paint job.

As they raced on, continuing to look for danger in water or on land ahead, a couple of bullets suddenly struck the leather seating surrounding Tommy. Swearing, he looked around, finding nothing hostile in the area. Then, he looked up in the air and saw a Sparrow helicopter flying towards them, two Cubans hanging on the sides trying to get a peg shot.

"Holy shit, these guys mean business. A whirlybird?"

"Oh shit…seriously? They sent a whirlybird?" Lance uttered disbelievingly.

Tommy couldn't steady for a good aim to get either one of the gunners (who were using their cover whenever he fired), and he didn't have much time either, so he took a shot at the front window, hoping to get rid of the pilot. Bullets continued to sag around him as he fired controlled bursts.

And then the clip went empty. As Tommy ducked down again to shove another clip into his rifle, hoping that the gunners wouldn't get him as he reloaded, he watched in slow-motion as a man fell out of the chopper…from the pilot's seat. As he hit the water with a splash, the Sparrow started to arch downwards. Its remaining occupants, realising that their cause was doomed, dived out and hit the water. The helicopter smashed into one of the bridges in Vice Point which went over water and began the long sink down to the floor.

Tommy had little time to bask in his success: Lance was already shouting another warning to him.

"More trouble up ahead!"

Tommy prayed that this one would be the last. He waited till the boat got closer, and fired a burst of rounds: most of which entered the gunner's chest, while a couple of bullets struck the driver, bringing the enemy boat to a halt.

Finally they pulled up at Diaz's mansion. As Tommy jumped out of the boat, he and Lance gave each other their usual high-five and had an exchange of words.

"Good shooting, my friend. You're a real, proper, grade-A lunatic." Lance said.

"Well, thank you." Tommy replied politely.

"See you around, Tommy."

"Okay, Mr. Lance Vance Dance."

And with that, Lance drove off in the Squallo. Tommy went off to retrieve his payment, which turned out to be a hefty sum of $18000; or more money than he had ever touched in his life. It would certainly be enough to allow him to acquire some property - and hopefully, it would be an asset which Sonny wouldn't be able to get his hands on.


	10. One Foot In The Door

Tommy was lying about in his newly-bought apartment, dubbed by the previous owner as "El Swanko Casa". It had set him back $8000 for both the deed and the furniture, but he thought it was well worth it. Of all its features, it had a single-car garage, a luscious pool, a large television with sweet furniture and in Tommy's opinion; the king-size bed was fit for gods (although the effect might have been magnified from sleeping on a scratchy cell bed for fifteen years.)

His phone rang as he lay down on the bed, and he grunted with annoyance as he reached for it and answered.

"Yo Tommy! It's Lance," came Lance's voice from the other side.

"Yeah?" Tommy asked.

"Oh, nice to hear from you, Lance. Come on, man, be cool, be cool."

"I'm in the middle of something." Tommy lied, simply wanting to relax without being disturbed. "What do you want?"

"Nothing." Lance replied.

Tommy heard silence from the other end for a moment, as if Lance was trying to lead up to something important.

"Just to say, you know." he continued. "Look Tommy, we can do this thing. You and me, no problem. You know what I mean?"

"We're going to have to do it, 'cause otherwise, we're going to be dead, Lance." Tommy responded back, exasperated. "We're in too far now. But thanks for the call. I'll speak to you later."

Tommy really didn't know what to make of the phone call. Clearly Lance was a useful ally to him, at the very least as a hired gun. But he had no idea whether Lance would be willing to be patient as he himself in approaching the entire situation, given that he was now being forced to work for the man who most likely had brought about the death of his brother. If Lance blinked now, it would become a lot more difficult for Tommy to deal with Diaz.

As he went to shove the phone back under his pillow, it rang again. Sighing, Tommy pressed the RECEIVE button. It was Colonel Cortez.

"Tommy, it's me, Colonel Cortez. Look senor, I believe you are a man who can get things done. So please help me. You can find me at the boat."

Deciding that he wasn't going to get much of a break at all, Tommy pushed himself off his bed, grabbed a Ruger, and drove off down to the Marina to talk to Cortez.

* * *

"Diaz was pleased, and would like to meet you again." Cortez said later as they paced the deck of the yacht.

"Is that a good thing?"

"Of course!" chuckled the Colonel. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then turned to look Tommy in the eyes. "Although I'm starting to think that Diaz was responsible for our unfortunate loss…"

Did this mean Cortez, and the far-reaching gaze of his wide network of contacts, was properly confirming what he and Lance were already suspecting?

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

But the Colonel had backed down just as quickly.

"One does not wave accusations at a man like Diaz - I'm merely thinking out loud…No matter. I have a proposal that you could profit from…"

"I don't have time to run more errands, Cortez." Tommy growled, trying to filter the annoyance from his voice and curling up his fists. Cortez watched him with a degree of bemusement.

"I would have thought a man with such dangerous debts would be hungry for opportunities. Please, Tommy, at least hear me out."

"Go on…" Tommy relented with a sigh.

"I have a buyer of military hardware that is being taken through town. Pick it up for me…and once you get it, I want you to call me immediately and then…"

"What?"

"Pick it up first, tell me where you are. I will find a suitable location for it."

With that, Cortez ushered Tommy away.

Tommy was given a map with a traced route of the movement of the "military hardware". Going down the long road that stretched along the western island, it would eventually end up at Fort Baxter military base. Cortez had also marked several possible spots on the map where he could drop off the hardware when he was done. He drove onto the bridge at Starfish Island, and gazing into the distance in direction of Downtown, he soon spotted in the distance what he was looking for: a full-military convoy: Patriot Hummers, Barracks OL army trucks and the centrepiece: a Rhino tank. Marines everywhere, equipped with standard-issue M4 assault rifles. Even with their functionality problems, they wouldn't be jamming at the same time.

Which made taking the tank, which he was now assuming was the "military hardware", even more difficult. As he watched the convoy slowly move from a safe distance on the Starfish Island bridge, he realised that one side of the road was completely deserted: the army wasn't taking any chances and any vehicles around there would probably be taken as suspicious.

That meant he would need a distraction to remove the soldiers from the equation. He thought up a solution right away: 8-Ball's bomb shop down at the Viceport. Turning his Greenwood left, he began driving for the garage. As he drove, he noted something else: a doughnut shop. If he stopped the car there, the army soldiers would probably want to get some doughnuts: some stereotypes never changed.

Five minutes later, Tommy was back and luckily for him, the convoy hadn't reached the shop yet: they were still milled around near Little Havana Hospital. Parking the Greenwood so it completely blocked that side of the road, Tommy exited and took cover behind some bushes that lay in front of the Little Havana Police Station.

As time passed, Tommy could hear the noise of the vehicles increase, before eventually came to a halt. Peeking through the bushes, he saw that everything had been set in place and could hear an officer command one of the marines:

"Go get some doughnuts, soldier!"

"Sir Yes sir!" yelled a voice, and the tank driver exited the Rhino and entered the store. The CO issued another order

"Get that civilian vehicle out of our way!"

"Sir! Moving vehicle, sir!" shouted another marine.

As the soldier headed towards the Greenwood, the rest of the convoy began to continue on, moving closer into the blast radius. But as the marine got in to move the vehicle, Tommy activated the bomb.

Explosion. A gigantic blast rocked the area, shattering the glass of the windows of the doughnut shop and killing or wounding most of the marines in the convoy. Tommy could see large cracks present in the concrete. The tank driver, who had just exited the shop when forced to dive to safety, muttered loudly:

"I'm getting out of here."

He sprinted off in the direction of the nearby police station, failing to notice Tommy, still prone behind the bushes.

At this point, Tommy ran from his hiding place and made a beeline for the tank. The marines were too disorientated to offer much resistance - although the blast had been powerful, as it turned out, it hadn't killed that many.

Heart pounding, he thumped into the tank's driver's seat, and started the ignition. Immediately, a computerised voice became audible, demanding a security override. When Tommy ignored it and hit the accelerator, things became a lot harder than he had imagined them to be initially.

"Security protocol Delta India Echo triggered! Vehicle self-destruct initiated! Prepare to die, Communist scum!" announced the voice.

"Damn!" Tommy muttered, and he hit a few numbers into his cellphone as he got the Rhino moving.

Several police cars were streaming over from the nearby police station to try and take down the stolen tank. However, the sheer force of the Rhino meant that cop cars were either ploughed to the side, or simply bounced off.

"Colonel, I have the tank, I'm just outside the Havana police station and there's a self-destruct sequence on this thing. Where do you want me to put it?" Tommy yelled frantically into the receiver.

"Relax, Thomas. Little Havana? Go to site Y, the guys there can deactivate the sequence," replied Cortez, before he hung up, leaving Tommy to deal with his uncomfortable situation.

Shaking his head, he peeked at the time left on the self-destruction sequence: ten minutes, before he got focused on the driving of the military vehicle. Once he got a handle on the controls, things definitely became easier and even somewhat entertaining: ploughing through police cars as they made futile attempts to cut him off, and watching them bounce away like pinballs took his mind a little off his impending doom, but as it turned out, he made it back to the garage with enough time to spare for the deactivation of the sequence. Along with it, $2000 in cash, which Tommy felt was hardly enough to justify what he had just completed: something along the lines of a heinous felony. Deciding that he needed a break, he hailed a Kaufman cab from nearby to take him to a Downtown bar in an attempt to drink off what he had just gone through.

* * *

Ricardo Diaz sat in his office, feet on his desk. He was extremely pleased by his achievements over the last few days: not only had he taught the Shark gangs over on Prawn Island some respect, but he had also found some sellers for the merchandise which had cost him one of his strongest allies. As he smoked a cigar, shouting to one of his men to bring him some more food, something caught his eye: entering from the main door, was Quentin-the man he knew to be Victor's brother. He was holding a Colt Python and from the look in his eyes, meant business.

Diaz watched curiously as Quentin strode up the stairs and entered the drug baron's office.

"Quentin! What's up, amigo?" he greeted, deciding to get on his helicopter pilot's good side.

"Enough with the pleasantries Ricardo. Why did you kill my brother?" growled Lance.

"Vic?" Diaz made an attempt to look in deep thought, as if trying to make an excuse. As he raised one hand to his chin, his other surreptitiously tapped a button on the underside of his desk. "Amigo, it was an accident. I fucked up…thought Vic was some random dickhead dealer, so I had him rubbed out. Let's forget about this."

"I'll rub you out…" snarled Lance as he raised his Colt Python: a shot at this range would blow Diaz's brains out.

Diaz remained calm, at least for now: the reason was because he had already sent his own guards on the way: all he had to do was stall for a minute or so, and he'd have this prick under wraps.

"Calm down, amigo, you want to discuss things?" he asked with a shrug: his hands, concealed by the table, reached for a hidden location where he held an MP5…

"No. I'm going to kill you right here and now. Any last requests, Diaz?"

"Come on…what do you want? Money? Women? Drugs? Property? I got all that shit, you know."

Lance hesitated for a moment, and Diaz made his move. Whipping his MP5 out from under his desk, he fired a burst that mostly struck Lance around his abdomen. As he fell, Diaz, with amazing agility for a man of his breadth, dived for the Python which Lance had just dropped. As they wrestled around on the ground, both trying to grab the Python, Diaz started shouting for help.

"Come on, you fucking idiots! Gimme some fucking help here!" he yelled as he ducked under one of Lance's wild swings.

A couple of the drug baron's henchmen eventually made it to the scene, restraining Lance and holding guns to his head.

"About fucking time!" Diaz screamed angrily at his men as he got up. "Take the dickhead to the Junkyard, do whatever you fucking can to see which dickhead set him up to do this. Then kill him and get rid of his body. Fuck the Vances."

Still puffing, he stumbled back to his seat to continue smoking, as if the previous incident has never occurred.

* * *

Hours later, Tommy's nap was disturbed by another ring on his cellphone.

"Alright, me ol'china! It's Paul. I might have a little result for you, but I need to speak to you in person. I'm enjoying a little R&R at the Club Malibu. Reckon you're gonna owe me a favour or two after this, sunshine. I'll see you later."

Tommy was getting annoyed with how many phone calls he was receiving. Maybe this was the life of a big criminal player in Vice City, he thought. And it sure was. The cell phone rang, and this time, it was the mysterious voice man.

"Get to the payphone next to the mall in Washington."

Tommy sighed and got back up with another grunt. Paul would have to wait while he gave the mysterious man another visit.

"A European gang plans to hit a bank in Vice City. My employers would rather this didn't happen. Each member of the gang has a cover while they are here in Vice City. Some have menial jobs, others are on vacation. Each target and their likely whereabouts are taped under the phone."

Tommy read the label under the phone. "A selection of weapons has been left for you nearby if you require them", it informed. Tommy turned around and noticed that in the garden of a nearby house, a nice silver PCJ-600 along with an Uzi and a sniper rifle were ready for him. After stocking up, he tore off the label which had been stuck to the phone - like in previous missions, there were small photos of his targets accompanied by brief descriptions of their possible locations.

"_**Mike Griffin is working on an advertising board in Washington"**_. _Nice work_, thought Tommy. There were tons of advertising boards around Washington Beach, and there could be more than a few armed construction workers on them as well. He drove around the area, gazing up at all the billboards before eventually spotting a man wearing a construction helmet atop one: he was holding an Uzi in one hand and a hammer in another. Tommy zoomed in on his sniper rifle, and picked him off with a headshot. One down, five to go. The next target was working for DBP Security on Ocean Drive. Tommy kind of knew where DBP Security was: near the alleyways somewhere in Ocean Beach. He drove along the road, zigzagging through each turn until he eventually saw a Securicar parked in a small area marginally walled-off. Driving to a safer distance, he sniped the man sitting inside through the front window.

"_**Marcus Hammond and Franco Carter are located near the jewellery shop in Vice Point.**_" the note read. Tommy quickly sped his PCJ-600 to the jewellery shop, spotting a black Bobcat: one man in the driver's seat, another leaning against the door smoking, but with a sawn-off shotgun in one hand. Tommy shot the driver in the head through the window and got the second man before he could react to his buddy's death.

He read the note again. _**"Nick Kong is cruising off Washington Beach, in the water near the bridge close to the VCPD".**_ Tommy drove his PCJ-600 all the way back to Washington Beach, and across the bridge near the VCPD. Gazing into the water, he immediately spotted a boat on the surface. After looking around and seeing no other boats around, Tommy determined that this was the target and shot him in between the eyes. The last target on the list came with the notification that once he was done, his money would be delivered to his safehouse in Ocean Beach: _**"Charlie Dilson is riding in Washington. He is wearing a red t-shirt."**_

Vague enough, but Tommy got a break when he spotted a man following his description cruising past his spot on the bridge. Sure enough, he had an Uzi clipped to the back of his PCJ. Tommy returned to his motorcycle and sneaked close enough to plug him with a handful of bullets in the back of the head. His guess was right: returning to the Ocean View Hotel, he was given a large briefcase, his payment for the hit. There was no time to waste though: after leaving the case hidden in his hotel room, he drove off for the Malibu Club: he sensed that Kent Paul's information might be important.


	11. A New Life

As Tommy was led into the Malibu Club by the bouncers, Kent Paul moved out to meet him, waving his hands around as if all excited and started chatting away.

"Alright, mush, I'm gonna save your Vera, mate." Kent said.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tommy asked angrily.

"You know that wanker, Diaz, the bugle master. He's got your boy Lance. Word is your mate tried to jump him...didn't jump high enough if you know what I mean."

Tommy's mind went into overdrive and his heart started pounding. Grabbing Paul by the collar, he shoved him into a wall and started his interrogation right in the Brit's face.

"Where did he take him? In plain English?"

"Keep your barnet on! They got him across town at the junkyard." Kent stuttered. As Tommy stalked off, he gathered himself before yelling furiously after the retreating figure.

"Bloody hell…you nutter!"

Shaking his head, Tommy headed outside; hailing a taxi and promising the driver double if he could get him to the junkyard as fast as possible: he wanted to get his mind sorted instead of driving. Luckily, the driver happily obliged and sped towards the destination at lightning speed, getting through gaps that Tommy doubted he could have gotten through. As he did so, Tommy sat down and thought.

_How could Lance be such a damn idiot?_, he thought furiously. He'd worked hard to get closer and closer to Diaz's inner circle: if the opportunity was presented, he would've taken simply funneling away Diaz's merchandise if he had to. But now Lance had probably blown their cover: he had to rescue him and get rid of Diaz as soon as possible.

The cab reached the location in just five minutes, and Tommy handed him a couple of $50 notes for his trouble. As the taxi drove off, Tommy looked up the street to the Junkyard entrance: it appeared well-guarded, with two Sentinels forming a roadblock and Diaz's men all over the place. If they were smart, Lance would be right at the very back of the compound: meaning Tommy would have to fight through what looked like a lot of goons just to get to him. For now though, Tommy decided on using his sniper rifle: he still had a few clips left over. As he zoomed in on the scope, he spotted that Diaz's men weren't pistol-toting like the men at the mansion: they all seemed to be carrying Uzi submachine guns: the guards at the very front had Rugers. That gave him even less margin for error: if he failed to spot one guy, he would be as good as dead, providing that they aimed straight.

Prioritising the Ruger-equipped men, he gunned down three without any reaction from any other henchmen. As the fourth and last of the assault-rifle-men fell, several gangsters exited the junkyard to come out and investigate: easy pickings there for Tommy as well. The others finally decided to cut their losses and hang back, waiting for the assailant to eventually show up.

Tommy moved forward slowly: the retreat of Diaz's men away from the open entrance to cover behind the gate meant that it would be harder for them to spot him. A couple of nearby buildings gave him some cover as he crept closer and closer while trying to avoid being detected. Eventually, he found himself almost adjacent to the entrance, but he had the wall of a building as cover. From there, he lay down, prone on the concrete and scoured the area further inwards.

Although there were plenty of men congregated on the ground, Tommy realised he also had a height disadvantage: some thugs had somehow gotten on top of cranes, Trashmasters and garbage chutes as well. That meant a change of plan: he'd have to get them first. Using a sniper rifle, he scoped out three hittable targets with position on higher ground. A couple of ground targets had also reemerged from cover, a little careless. Tommy made them pay for their mistake. He rang off six successive rifle shots over the next twenty seconds: only a single one missed, while the other five nailed his intended targets. He then decided to make his move.

Slinging his sniper rifle over his back, he pulled out his Ruger, he emerged from his hiding spot and opened fire on the surprised men who had gathered in the open in an attempt to pick out the direction where the shot came from. Under the hail of gunfire, they dropped quickly. Now that he was firmly inside the structure, sighting the area would perhaps be easier. Crouching down, he equipped his sniper rifle and scoped away once more, trying to keep the foul smell that was both garbage and blood from entering his nose. Further on, he spotted more and more guards, but no sign of any place where they could detain Lance. He'd have to go in further.

Putting aside his sniper rifle once more, he shoved a fresh clip into the assault rifle. Ahead of him was a large pile of junk: tyres, chairs, glass, you name it. Hoping that it wouldn't collapse on him, Tommy took cover behind it and looked around the corner to peek at what was in front of him.

He was met with the sound of Uzi fire: the thugs here were ready and had spotted Tommy faster than he had spotted them. Luckily for him though, the bullets either flew by his head or decked themselves into the pile of junk. This wasn't good: he was now pinned down, and probably had to rid himself of at least two more Uzi-equipped men before he could progress. He had one opening though: the fire was only coming to one side of the junk pile, the side he was currently cowered behind. Tommy wondered if the old bait-and-switch trick could work in this situation: if he could continue getting the men to fire at one side, he could maybe sneak to the other side of the trash pile and blindside them from there. It was worth a try.

Taking a deep breath, he drew his Uzi (which he had attached to his belt), leaned away from his cover and fired a couple of blind bursts: he wasn't expecting to hit anyone. As the goons reacted and returned fire, Tommy ducked back behind cover. Quickly dropping the Uzi on the ground for now, he picked up his Ruger and on all fours, slipped away to the other side. Upon reaching that side, he was surprised to see that his trick had worked: or at least for now. He stared ahead at the source of the gunfire: it came from three men holding Uzis, and now, he had a free shot at getting at least one of them before they noticed him.

It wasn't going to be easy though: he was lying down on his stomach and holding the bulky Ruger while trying to offer as little exposure as possible: that meant he would need good coordination to line up a target, concentrate and pull the trigger without moving.

Before he could do so, he decided to buy a little more time: moving over to the other side once more to take a few potshots with his Uzi. Confident that the shooters were now focused on that particular side, Tommy scrambled back to his Ruger. He realised that he didn't really need to take a tough shot: he could take a gamble, and step out into the open for a few seconds to have a clear shot at the men: if he got all three before they could react, it'd be no problem. But if he missed even one, he'd probably be dead. Although he felt that he had already been a little over-fortunate in getting so far inside the junkyard complex, he decided to take the risk.

The moment he emerged from his cover and opened fire, he realised that Diaz's men were all made of the same stuff. They reacted slowly, and by the time they had even turned around, Tommy had blown two away. The last few bullets remaining in the Ruger clip connected with the chest of the remaining thug. He slumped down, dead on the ground like his buddies. Shaking his head, Tommy relieved the men of their Uzis and ammunition and moved on.

Up ahead was a small run-down building. Tommy scoped ahead once more: a couple of guards stood outside the building while inside, two more were responsible for working over Lance. From Tommy's angle, he could only pick out the legs of the three men gathered inside the building. He doubted that he could just snipe the two though: he didn't want to risk the chance that the men would be under orders to execute Lance in the case of a rescue attempt: from what it looked like, it certainly seemed that Diaz had no more use for the man in the white suit. He had to make two quick shots to get rid of the two guards outside before making a charge at the two men inside: hopefully, they weren't armed.

The sniping part was made easier by the fact that Tommy by now had gotten used to aiming down the target, squeezing the trigger, working the bolt, lining up and firing again. After gunning down the first guard, he kept his aim steady to nail the second one with little trouble. With both men down, he quickly slung the sniper rifle onto his back and took out his Uzi, sprinting towards the entrance of the building. One of the men inside ran out and made a move for one of the dead guards' Rugers: Tommy blew him away with a burst of gunfire. The second one beelined for the Sentinel parked next to the building, hoping to get in and run Tommy over, but it was wishful thinking: he was a sitting duck in the open and would've been claimed while starting the ignition anyway. After reloading his Uzi and checking around the area for any remaining thugs (possibly waiting in ambush), he sighed and walked towards the building's entrance.

Inside the structure was Lance, tied to a chair and blindfolded. His white suit was ripped and covered in his own blood: he had obviously suffered quite a beating from Diaz's thugs. Tommy wasn't offering him any sympathy though. As he undid the reins that held Lance's hands to the chair, he began cussing angrily.

"There goes my careful planning blown to shit, thanks to you. You screwed up real good, Lance!"

"He killed my brother. What do you expect me to do, mow his lawns?" Lance replied bitterly.

"We're gonna have to take out that prick Diaz before he takes us out." Tommy said. "You okay to use a gun?" he asked, offering Lance one of the Uzi 9mm which he had picked up from one of Diaz's men.

"Sure…I guess…nice to see you too." grunted the man as he accepted the weapon.

"Let's get out of here." Tommy said, motioning for Lance to follow.

Tommy had parked the Sentinel very close to the entrance of the building, so they were able to get in without being fired on in the open. It mightn't have mattered though, especially if all the men were dead. As they sped off for the hospital to get Lance's wounds dressed, they realised that they had another problem: it appeared that while Tommy had been shooting up the men, someone had called for backup from the mansion. That came in four Comets sports cars that entered from the left: the same direction which Tommy needed to go in order to reach the hospital. All four cars were loaded with Diaz's men. That was a problem: not only were they outnumbered, but the cars were also faster and handled better compared to their own escape vehicle. Tommy tried to ignore that fact: instead, he decided to work on yet another all-or-nothing gamble. Speeding towards the approaching Comets, he went one way and then swerved to the other side. Diaz's men didn't react smartly: thinking that their numbers would do the trick, they all moved in the direction Tommy had initially driven for, and were well out-of position when Tommy changed direction and speed at the last moment. It was a perfect dummy: Tommy was able to get past them as they desperately tried to turn back the other way. The Sentinel raced away, trying to establish a gap from the chasing cars while the pursuers regrouped.

Tommy gunned the Sentinel down the straight road that led all the way downtown, his eyes completely fixed on the road and the traffic ahead of him. For now, he just wanted speed: he'd only drag in the fancy turns when he absolutely had to. He also took a few glances at the rear-view mirror, watching to see how close the Comets were getting to him. Luckily, they hadn't emerged from the turn yet: Tommy only saw the first Comet appear moments before he rounded the corner at the end of the road, leading to the hospital.

"Get patched up and meet me on the bridge to Star Island, ok?" Tommy instructed hurriedly as Lance opened the door to exit the car.

"Okay, I got you." Lance replied, before stumbling in the direction of the hospital entrance.

With that reminder to Lance, Tommy realised that he had a lot of money in his pocket as a result of the briefcase he had seized. So after dumping the escape vehicle over at Hyman Stadium, he chose to pay a visit the nearby AmmuNation to acquire some firepower for the showdown with Diaz and his men: hopefully Lance would do the same thing.

"Hi, may I help you?" the AmmuNation clerk asked Tommy as he walked in.

"Can I have an S.P.A.S 12 shotgun and a Colt Python?" Tommy asked, taking out his wallet almost bulging with $100 bills.

"That'll be $6000, but since that's cash straight up, it's a 15% discount," replied the clerk. He disappeared into a storage room, reappearing ten seconds later with a shotgun and a Colt Python from underneath. A few clips worth of ammunition were produced to complement both weapons. Thanking the clerk, Tommy counted out the money, took both guns back out to his Sentinel and began driving over to Starfish Island where he could wait for Lance's arrival.

It was time to make hay.

* * *

Half an hour later, Tommy watched a Stallion saloon car pull up next to him. Aboard was Lance: Tommy noticed that he had several bruises and cuts on his face, but overall, he seemed to have recovered from his ordeal. Lance exited and motioned for Tommy to follow him to the trunk.

"I got us some cannons in the trunk." Lance said matter-of-factly, unlocking the trunk.

Two military-issue M4 assault rifles lay there, wrapped in plastic, waiting for the two of them.

"Holy shit! Where'd you get all this stuff?" Tommy exclaimed, dragging the rifle out of the trunk.

"Been saving it for a rainy day. You like?"

"Yeah, I like." Tommy replied enthusiastically as he exchanged the clips in his Ruger into the M4. _Military-issue weapons, _he thought. _Street crime had gotten serious_.

As they were sorting themselves out, Diaz was sitting by the security room. All of a sudden, he saw two men that weren't his running towards his mansion, both packing assault rifles. There was Quentin: and the second man drained the blood from his face. It was Tommy Vercetti. There was nowhere for the drug baron to go now. He walked over to the nearby table, where an MP5 submachine gun lay. Picking it up, he yelled for his men to get ready.

* * *

"This place is going to be crawling with assholes, be careful." Tommy warned Lance as they approached the front entrance of the mansion.

"Don't worry, Tommy, I'll cover you." Lance said, raising his M4.

The two fired on Diaz's men who were guarding the steps leading up to the front door of the mansion. They quickly dropped. Lance and Tommy moved slowly towards the front entrance, but unsurprisingly found it locked up.

"This means that Diaz must be inside." Tommy concluded: there was no other real explanation for the entrance being locked up.

This left them with a couple of options for them to reach the courtyard and spa complex which would lead to the mansion's rear entrance.

"Yeah, so we could go forward into that grassy maze and risk being fired at turning every corner, or even being shot through the walls, or we could turn around and go up those stairs leading to that nice flat, green lawn. Whaddaya think Lance?" Tommy grinned, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, that maze obviously sounds safer than the lawn option." Lance replied as he turned around and began moving back the way they came.

At the top of the set of stairs, they found a couple of Diaz's guys ready for them, but the two of them reacted faster and riddled both men with lead: one fell in the nearby swimming pool. As they leaped down another small set of stairs, leading to the lawn that Tommy had mentioned, they had another guy to get rid of.

"This way!" Lance shouted, pointing at a right turn at the bottom of the stairs that led into the courtyard with the bunch of pools and spas. There were plenty of targets here as well: Tommy and Lance kept their M4 trigger fingers working fast: the range of the assault rifle certainly gave them a massive advantage over the Uzis which nearly all of Diaz's men were equipped with. Further inwards, past a series of luxurious-looking pools and spas, was the basement entrance into the mansion. At that point, the previously frantic pace of the two slowed down: in the tighter confines of the interiors, they had to be careful. After navigating through several deserted basement rooms, they came to a flight of stairs that led upwards into the "proper", red interior of Diaz's mansion. They were given a proper greeting too: at the top of the flight of stairs, stood a guard holding an Uzi: he opened fire immediately, forcing Tommy to dive away. Lance followed up from behind a retreating Tommy and shot the man in the head.

"Shot, Lance." grunted Tommy as he forced himself back up.

The two continued to move up sets of stairways: once in a while, there'd be a guard or two at the top, but by now, both men were alert for them and were firing quickly. Eventually, they reached a fork: they could either go left to move into some hallway, or keep going up the stairs. Tommy looked at Lance quizzically.

"I think those stairs lead up to the rooftops: if they do, then that hallway should lead us right into the main room and Diaz's office…" he replied uncertainly.

Tommy shrugged and carefully poked his head around the corner: nobody. Around the corner at the end of the next hallway was another one of Diaz's thugs: he was cleaned up as necessary.

They took a left, and they appeared a short distance away from what Tommy recognised to be the aisle across from Diaz's office. Two men were directly ahead of them: almost certainly there'd be more thugs shooting once Lance and Tommy moved into the open. Rolling back behind cover, Tommy aimed and fired a couple more bursts, blowing away the two closest men. Lance moved in front of him, and they slowly crept out into the main room of the mansion.

Two bodyguards were standing just outside the entrance to Diaz's office: they were carrying the same M4s that Tommy and Lance held, and they immediately started using them. As Tommy flung both himself and Lance backwards, a series of bullets plastered the wall just behind him.

"Watch yourself, damn it!" grunted Tommy angrily towards Lance as he stood upright again.

Tommy checked his M4 ammunition: about one-third of his current clip remaining, and one spare magazine. He'd have to be efficient now if he wanted to deal with the men from long-range. He then turned back to Lance who stood next to him, awaiting instructions.

"You take the guy on the right, I take the one on the left, okay?"

Lance shrugged. On the count of three, they emerged from their cover and opened up with another violent salvo of gunfire.

They got lucky: they had aimed truly, and by the time they could survey the situation, both men lay in piles of their own blood. Their deaths had drawn out the target himself: he emerged holding a navy-issue MP5 submachine gun: the best of the best. Tommy was hardly intimidated though. As Diaz stared them down, he opened up with a verbal barrage.

"DIAZ? I've come to take over your business!" Tommy yelled at the coke baron.

"TOMMY! You betrayed me, you idiot! I'm gonna kill you real soon!" Diaz screamed, spraying a wild burst of MP5 gunfire in the two's direction.

Lance and Tommy scattered, diving out of the path of the bullets. Midway through his dive for safety, Lance returned fire in a similar fashion, spraying at Diaz with his M4.

"EAT THIS, you murdering bastard!" he spat.

Tommy was a little more rational with the situation: he discarded his empty M4, and pulled out his Colt Python. Now lying on his stomach in a prone position, he aimed at one of the gangsters standing on the stairs, firing up at them with little success. _Crack_. The man's head reared back violently and he hit the floor. Tommy cocked the gun and aimed it at another man: this time, positioned to his left and giving him a little grief. Another hit: the bullet this time entered the thug's jugular, ejecting a large amount of unpleasant bloody matter.

Tommy aimed once more: this time, it was at Diaz who was too busy dealing with Lance's shooting to react. The powerful .357 bullet struck the drug baron in the right shoulder, causing him to collapse down onto the mansion's floor with another screech of pain. With the main danger out of the equation for now, Tommy and Lance took the opportunity to kill the remaining men. Then, they slowly strolled over towards the coke baron, who was now crawling helplessly on the ground, clutching his shoulder in agony.

"You stupid pricks…my beautiful house; look what you've done to it!" Diaz moaned, grasping his right shoulder tightly.

"This is for my brother!" Lance snarled, aiming his M4 at Diaz's head. The coke baron coughed and turned to Tommy.

"I trusted you, Tommy. I would've had you made…"

Tommy shrugged, unwilling to comment. Lance curled his fingers around his gun.

"Say goodnight, Mr. Diaz."

They fired at the same time. Both bullets crashed into the drug baron's head: the man's body jerked violently, and then lay still.

Calmly, Tommy and Lance walked over to the safe in Diaz's office, where $100,000 awaited. They split the money up between each other, and gave each other subdued grins. They had a mansion to themselves and a lot of cash to go with it. After they had both chosen rooms, Lance drove off to have some rest and relaxation at the Pole Position strip club, and Tommy settled down at the bar to think and react to the action which had just taken place.

_The King is dead. Long live the King._

Just over a week ago, Tommy Vercetti had fallen asleep in a small hotel room, clutching a near-empty bottle of wine, pondering about what he had gotten himself into. And a few days before that, he had been in a jail cell.

How quickly did things change.

Of course, there were still things to be dealt with. No doubt news of Diaz's death would move quickly; Tommy would have to consolidate his new-earned power, get the message out that there was a new sheriff in town. He'd probably need to consult Avery and Cortez on this particular area; and against his better judgement, he decided that Ken would probably have to be involved in the process too.

And of course, there was one gigantic elephant in the room. Tommy knew that the day would come where he would have to deal with Sonny one way or another, and he knew that day would not be a smooth one.

But for that one moment, he reveled, and toasted silently to his self and his new life._  
_

* * *

His cell phone rang and he answered it, readying for a steady flow of calls.

It was Colonel Cortez: his message was short and sounded urgent.

"Tommy, Thomas, it's Cortez. Look, the French are giving me all kinds of trouble, amigo. Damn hypocrites. They spend a hundred years stealing from poor countries and they call me a thief! I am going to need your help as soon as possible, amigo."

Not even time to listen to Tommy's own big news. Who knew what was going on with the Colonel; but he'd probably have to deal with it as soon as possible.

Five minutes later, it was Kent Paul: as it turned out, like Cortez, his one was totally unrelated to Diaz or anything to do with crime.

"Tommy son, have I got a surprise for you. I'm down at the recording studio with some major artists. Why don't you pay us a visit? You know it makes sense dontcha? See ya later."

A curious call, but hopefully that avenue could only lead to more fruitful paths.

And then the elephant reminded Tommy that it was still there.

* * *

"Tommy, remember me?" asked Sonny Forelli as Tommy answered his mobile.

"Hello Sonny." Tommy coolly replied.

"That's right, Sonny. We're old friends! You never write me, you never call." Sonny mocked, putting on a fake tone of sadness. "Don't you want to be friends no more?"

"I've been busy trying to sort things out. You didn't give me a lot of support down here, Sonny." Tommy growled, not bothering to conceal the hostility in his face, and both men knew he was right: the mob boss had done nothing for him other than drop him in the middle of a city he didn't know, to force him to find some lost drug money.

"Oh, my fault is it?" Sonny replied, his voice suddenly hardening. "Well I've heard you been busy all right. Busy killing drug barons. Busy taking over. Don't forget about us, Tommy, 'cause I assure you, I ain't forgotten about you."

Before Tommy could respond with a barb of his own, the line went dead.

For now he was a king, but there was still one whole war to fight.


	12. Protection Ring

Tommy woke up in the room in his mansion to his cell phone ringing. Answering it, he discovered that it was Avery.

"Howdy son, just thought I'd ring you up and give you some advice." Avery said.

"Hey, Avery. What's eating you?" Tommy replied cheerfully.

"There's a lot of opportunity in this town if you own the right real estate, you catch my drift?"

"I reckon so…"

"All I'm saying is keep your eyes open and you might find the perfect business opportunity. I'll catch you later."

"Later, Avery." Tommy replied, but the phone was already dead.

Tommy decided to try and do what Avery told him, and he drove off in his Admiral to check out some real estate. He had plenty of money flowing in through the coffer, a good $1000 a day after he had scared the shops. He spent most of the day out, buying a couple of properties, Ocean Heights Apartment and Links View Apartment, both sporting luxurious interiors and single-car garages. Also, he received yet another phone call by the mysterious man.

When he returned, Lance and two of his men were sitting at the bar drinking. They seemed to look pissed about something.

"What's the problem?" Tommy asked Lance.

"Some bar is refusing to pay. They reckon they're protected by a local group of thugs. But don't worry Tommy, I can handle it." Lance replied.

"You call this handling it? You two, off your asses. Let's go." Tommy motioned for the two men to follow him out.

Tommy drove his Admiral over to the Front Page Bar, which was the supposed place that wasn't paying protection. After Tommy pulled up with a drive-by and killed the security guards there, he headed up the stairs to talk to the manager, who had come down to investigate.

"Your protection needs a little more protection." Tommy told the manager.

"Aw hell, not again! I don't need this crap!" the manager angrily, but stopped seeing Tommy's Uzi.

"These idiots operate out of DBP Security around the block," the manager continued.

"I'll be seeing you later."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," the manager replied, as Tommy headed off.

Tommy drove over to DBP Security, and had a peek at the place. Several men holding Uzis and a few vehicles to go with it. Tommy was glad that he had a few grenades. Slowly pulling the pin on one, he tossed it towards the middle of the little blockade, and watched the vehicles cause a chain reaction among each other. Calmly, Tommy jumped out, and cleared the three remaining security men, before spotting a safe of money leaning against the wall. Grabbing it, he quickly counted it to be a healthy $5000, but before he could return to the mansion, there was a massive explosion, followed by two DBP Security men speeding out in motorcycles. Cursing, Tommy pulled himself up from where he had dived, and his men following him, made after the motorcycles on the Admiral. As they sped towards the fleeing bikes, suddenly, a Securiar came racing across from the next street. Tommy almost spun out, but hit it hard with a spray of bullets well supported by his men's fire. The blue van was crunched. The Admiral continued, discovering that the guards had pulled up in on a path in Ocean Beach, and were now wielding M4s. They fired at the window of the Admiral, and Tommy had to duck for cover. With the window open, he fired his Uzi, killing them both with accurate shots. Tommy grinned, sharing a high-five with the guy in the front seat, before driving back to the mansion.

However, as they were driving back, Tommy received another call, this time from Lance.

"Tommy. We gotta talk about stuff." Lance said.

"What's the problem Lance?" Tommy asked.

"It's you, my friend; I feel you're not giving me a fair slice. And more than that, you've been embarrassing me in front of the boys. I can't have that."

"Lance, it ain't like that. You've been making mistakes."

"Tommy, I'm not your message boy. I'm not your running boy." Lance replied, lowering his voice.

"Lance, don't screw up and we won't have any problems. I screw up; you can lay into me anytime."

"Tommy, I've done everything for you, you treat me like a fool. Don't do that."

"Lance, I won't rip you off or stab you in the back, ok? Just take it easy. This is tough enough without you getting all emotional on me. Trust me. Do you hear me, do you hear me?" Tommy tried to reassure him.

"I hear you, Tommy, but I can't take this much more."

"Lance, don't be like this. Now I'm warning you. Do you hear me? Just relax, take a few days off. Okay? I'll talk to you." Tommy shut the phone before Lance could reply.

Sighing, he dropped his boys off at the mansion, and drove off to receive the call at the airport terminal, leaving all his weapons in his Admiral as he got out.

"Time to fry bigger fish, Mr. Teal. There's a rifle in the foliage to your right. Watch the woman standing on the balcony above the check-in desks. She will walk through the crowd and ask someone the time. You must kill that person, retrieve his case and take it to the location taped under the phone."

Tommy turned to the bush, and immediately saw a sniper rifle hidden in it. Then, he zoomed it in on the woman who the man had told him about, and followed her carefully with the scope to two men, one holding a briefcase, and the other with an Uzi. He checked the label that he had peeled off from under the phone. "AmmuNation, downtown". As the woman walked off, Tommy capped the man with the briefcase, and then quickly took out his bodyguard. The sniper rifle was silenced, which was rather lucky, as Tommy quickly dropped it and made a run for the briefcase. Seizing it, he sprinted through the metal detectors, and tossing the case into the back of the Admiral, he drove off.

As he made a turn for the long stretch of road taking him to AmmuNation, a black Admiral came speeding across, trying to block his way. Two men were leaning against the sunroof and started firing their M4s at Tommy's fleeing car. Tommy managed to swerve past them without spinning out, but the Admiral gave chase. It was going to be touch and go. As they sped past the Little Havana police station, another black Admiral came thundering across the street, only to mistime its entry and crash side-on into the other chasing car. Tommy gave a sigh of relief, and sped forwards again, trying to lose the Admirals. He had almost reached the Leaf Links Bridge by the time the two black Admirals had untangled themselves, and he delivered the briefcase to AmmuNation, earning a healthy $8000 along the way. But as he sped back for the mansion, he met the black Admirals along the way. Luckily, they ignored him, despite his battered condition. Tommy drove back to the mansion for a hard-earned sleep. He would wait for Lance for the next few days before going on for their next task in their protection asset.


	13. Confidenceyeah, right

Over the next few days, true to his word, Lance took a few days off, and wasn't seen at the mansion. Tommy bought a few more properties around Vice City, the Hyman Condo with a Maverick helicopter on the top, a block just across Ken's office and 3321 Vice Point. It was a complete spending spree, yet he still had quite a bit of dosh left when he was done.

Lance was officially back when Tommy, after joy-riding for a while in his white Infernus, had parked it in his garage, and noticed Lance having a word with one of his men, Mike. As Tommy approached them, he could hear their conversation.

"You moron! What were you thinking! Do you realize what this means? We could all be sunk!" Lance yelled at Mike.

"The timer must have got screwed. That place was wired to go up like a fireworks factory. Then somebody tipped off the cops…" Mike replied sadly.

"What's the problem, fellas?" Tommy asked, arriving at the scene.

"Mike was supposed to torch some place in the mall, but he screwed the fuses and now the cops are crawling all over it. We gotta get our stuff and get out of here." Lance yelled.

"Relax, both of you, let me think for a second! Tommy Vercetti just doesn't cut and run. The cops are gonna be going over that building with a fine-toothed comb, right? But that takes time. We gotta go in and torch that place ourselves." Tommy suggested.

"Yeah, but…" Lance began.

"No one but a cop could get within a mile of that place!" Mike butted in.

"So we go as cops. We gotta get uniforms-and we're gonna need a squad car. All thanks to you Mike." Tommy said.

"I'm sorry." Mike apologized sadly.

"I got it. What we got to do is lure the cops in with the finger, put them in a lock-up and jump them." Lance said.

"Good plan. Let's go!" Tommy shouted, heading over to the Sentinel in his garage.

"Alright." Mike said, before heading back inside the mansion, hoping his two bosses could do the job.

"Ok, Lance, let's get the cops' attention!" Tommy told Lance.

They pulled the Sentinel out nearby a police car when they neared the lock-up located in Vice Point, and Lance, opening the window, blew a hole into a police car with his sawn-off shotgun.

"Now that really got them pissed." Lance chuckled as the police car gave chase.

Tommy lured the police car to the lock-up, and quickly as he could, clicked on a button that would lock the doors as soon as the policemen got out. Immediately, Lance and Tommy jumped them, and knocking them unconscious, they took their clothes and tied the policemen up.

"Tie 'em up and gag 'em!" Lance shouted. Then, he joked:

"Ooh. Fits perfectly!"

"Bit tight around the crotch though…" Tommy grinned.

"Oh yeah, mine too, mine too."

They tucked their old clothes into the police car that the cops had chased them in, and drove off towards the North Point Mall.

They hid their weapons, and then headed to one of the entrances, guarded by a policeman with an M4 assault rifle. Tommy whispered to Lance:

"Remember-smile at the other cops."

"Hey there officer. Nice badge, nice badge." Lance waved at the cop.

"Real smooth, Lance." Tommy smiled.

Heading over to the Tarbrush Café, they spotted two Army guys standing at the entrance. After they had told them that they were the people investigating the scene, Lance silently placed the bomb on the floor, readied the detonator, and muttered:

"Ok, timers are set, 15 seconds and ticking."

"15 seconds! We got to get the hell out of here!" Tommy exclaimed quietly.

Lance faked a phone call, and after Tommy grabbed a case of money, they made a beeline for the entrance to the mall. As they headed outside and charged into the police car. Although a few police cars who had caught the action gave chase, they couldn't beat Tommy's superior driving skills.

They returned to the mansion with $25,000, which they split between each other and the boys, along with the assurance of $5000 worth of protection money to be delivered every week over to the mansion. Things were sure as hell looking on, and that was when Tommy realised something. All these years, under Sonny's leash, spending fifteen years for the family, and doing a drug deal for the family. He had Vice City nearly under his control. So why should he give back the money? Nevertheless, he was going to give up on the family, and play along until he had the chance to get Sonny to shut up.

But first, he needed a start in his money-making assets. He grabbed a map of Vice City, and looked at properties all over the place that were reasonably cheap to buy and could profit him. The boatyard seemed the best choice, the cheapest property he could see, costing $10,000. He drove over there to buy it, taking a briefcase of green with him. When he got there, he found nobody there, except two surfer-dudes lying in a boat.

"Hello? Hel-lo? Hello?" Tommy yelled.

"Put it out. There's a dude here. Hey suit dude! I guess you're the new owner?" he heard one of the guys ask him. He wore a t-shirt with a label that said: "Dwayne" on it.

"Yeah. Which one of the boats is the fastest?" Tommy asked, confused.

"It's already in the water, dude. I thought you might want to try her out." Dwayne replied.

"Dude, she's already running with a 300 horsepower engine..." the other one said, named Jethro.

"-and the fibreglass hull, she just shoots through the waves!"

"She can do like zero to sixty in four seconds flat dude..."

"-and and she can hold like twenty bales of the best Jamaican smoke right in the hull!"

"So go ahead dude, she's ready to fly!"

"Yo yo, uh, suit dude, you gotta light? Dude? Dude?"

Tommy had gone to have a look at the speedboats, leaving the money to the surfer dudes. One was a Squallo II speedboat, the one he had stolen for Diaz a while ago. The other one was a flashy Cuban Jetmax. He took the Jetmax for a cruise, and it was awesome. The Jetmax handled very well, and Dwayne was right, it shot through the waves like crazy. But as he sped along, Tommy received another phone call from Lance. And this time, he didn't even let him talk. Tommy dwelled on this all the way back to the boatyard. Was this going to turn into trouble ahead? Sighing, he sped back to the boatyard, where Dwayne and Jethro were waiting.

"So dude, you like it?" Dwayne asked as Tommy reached ashore.

"Yeah. How do you get this place to make money?" Tommy asked.

"Duh man, we make boats. Except some silly dude stole these packages a few weeks ago. Get those packages back for us dude, before the cop dudes take it away."

Tommy shrugged, and took the map of where the packages were supposed to be.

This time, Tommy chose the Squallo for its faster speed. He raced it out all around Vice City, retrieving packages, and when he got back, he was drenched, but it was satisfying enough when Dwayne and Jethro said that they could make $7K a week with the packages, and $2000 of that would be going to him. Tired, but happy with the day, Tommy drove to Burger Shot to buy something to eat. More business tomorrow, but as Dwayne said, you can't do everything in a day, dude.


	14. Love Fist and the Ice Cream Lady

Tommy woke up late. It was already 10:00 by the time he got up, and the first thing he noticed was that his boys had definitely had a pizza. About eight boxes of pizza were piled up on the floor of the mansion. Shrugging, Tommy had his late breakfast, and drove off to see what Kent had for him at the recording studio. When he arrived, he spotted Love Fist: the rock band he heard all the time on VROCK. Their songs were rather annoying sometimes, but Tommy listened when he was bored.

"All right!" yelled one of the members.

"Yesssss! Brilliant, bloody brilliant! Hey, Tommy! Glad you could make it. Hey, you ever met Love Fist before?" Paul yelled.

"No, I haven't but I've always loved your music." Tommy lied, trying to please them.

"Let me introduce you to the band. This is Percy, Dick, and Willy's in the kaze, and that was Jezz in the booth earlier, and guys, I want you to meet a good friend of mine. This is Tommy. We go way back."

"All right, pal. And eh, what was your name again?" Jezz asked.

"Leave it out, Jezz, you remember-don't be playing them games with me, mate, I'm too crafty for that, sunshine!" Paul cut in.

"You see, the thing is, Tom, the boys need some help. They ain't too connected here, they don't have the old 'how's your father'?" Paul continued.

"We need some drugs, pal! Gonna get on the old Love Fist fury, you know!" Jezz exclaimed.

"Well, this is Vice City, man. What's the problem?" Tommy asked.

"We need Love Juice, man, you know?" Percy answered.

"Love Juice, man!" Dick exclaimed.

"Love Juice?" Tommy asked curiously.

"Aye, two parts boomshine, one part trumpet, five fizz bombs and a litre of petrol." Jezz answered.

"Can you help us out, pal?" Percy pleaded.

"Aw, it would really mean a lot to the boys. You can do that for the boys, right?" Paul asked.

Tommy nodded, and walked out to his Admiral to drive over to where the dealer was supposed to be.

When he arrived, he honked the horn, and when the dealer arrived, he produced the cash that Love Fist had given him.

"Looking for something special? I got what you need!" the dealer grinned in a suave voice. Taking the money, he yelled at Tommy:

"Thanks for the money, sucker!"

"Asshole." Tommy muttered and raced towards the dealer, who had just hopped on his PCG-600.

Luckily for Tommy, the dealer couldn't handle a bike very well. He skidded out trying to turn left from the recording studio, and only managed to fall off his bike and about two seconds later, get run over by Tommy's Admiral. Cursing, Tommy took the money, drugs and the sawn-off shotgun that the dealer had dropped, and headed back up the stairs.

When he got up, the band was waiting for him.

"Hey mate, the guys could do with some company, if you know what I mean…" Paul told Tommy as he headed upstairs.

"I know just the girl." Tommy replied, thinking of Mercedes.

He sped his Admiral over across the Leaf Links Bridge, to pick up Mercedes from her apartment.

"Hey, Mercedes!" Tommy greeted her when she opened the door.

"Hiya, Tommy. And how are you?" Mercedes replied.

"Just fine. Listen, you fancy having Love Fist?"

"Ok, but just as a favour I expect returned." Mercedes agreed as she entered the car.

After a quick speed back to the recording studio, Mercedes got out of the Admiral, and waving goodbye to Tommy, walked inside to have a look at Love Fist.

Tommy now, decided to buy another business. With the boatyard generating some good income every week, with Dwayne and Jethro being very efficient users of their money and supplies for surfer dudes, it was time to buy another business that could generate some good loot for him. He had seen the Cherrypopper Ice Cream Factory on a drive back to Starfish Island once, and it sounded like a decent business to purchase. After grabbing a case of money, he drove right over there, plonking the money down just outside the main entrance to the place, and slowly sliding open the panels. All he could see was a few Mr. Whoopee ice cream trucks and an old lady standing, looking around.

"Who are you?" she asked angrily.

"Your new owner." Tommy calmly replied.

"Were you now, or at any time, a child?"

"What are you talking about?" Tommy asked, confused.

"Were you a child?" she half-shouted.

"Yes! Calm down! What's wrong with you?"

"I knew it. A child. A dirty, stinking, snivelling, snotting, vile, puking, crying little baby! A baby…an awful, horrible, little boo hoo. Mummy doesn't love you. You little shit!" the lady screamed.

"Ow! Calm down."

"I HATE babies, and I hate children. They're dirty, snivelling, snotting, puking little pieces of sh-"

"Enough already!" Tommy cut in.

"You make soft ice cream, okay? It's purely for kids." Tommy continued.

"What kind of psycho are you?" the lady spat back.

"Just so I understand this, why make children happy if you hate them?"

"Oh, you stupid, snivelling, snotty-"

"Shut up!"

"-brat! The ice cream is a front. We distribute other, non-dairy products. And if I see a kid, I put him to good use. Don't I, kiddies? Yes-yes I do, Mummy doesn't love you. She hates you!"

Amused yet shocked, Tommy slowly scanned what the "non-dairy" products sold by the factory were. They were all sorts of things, mostly different types of drugs and such. Maybe buying this place wasn't a good idea at all, Tommy thought. A crazy ice cream lady, running an anti-children front. Boy, if he could sell it, he would sell it right now. But for now, he would sell some Cherry Popper product, and see how everything went. Hell, this factory might still be able to make money for him, and then he could turn it into an ice cream company, which wouldn't please the lady, but at least it wouldn't have cops scurrying to see if this was a front. Shrugging, Tommy got into one of the vans, turned on the jingle, and for an hour, made about 50 deals, which netted him a decent $1000. The other good thing was that the ice cream lady actually assured him that $3000 of the money they made from selling the product and taking children would be his. Maybe funny ice cream business wasn't too bad after all, Tommy thought.


	15. The Bikers

Tommy was the most relaxed that he had been since he had arrived in this screwed-up city. He had just purchased the Pole Position strip club, the one Mercedes requested him to bring her to. It was a bright disco-sort of place, where strippers danced for men who wanted to calm down after a long day of hard work, business, and maybe corruption. He smiled at the young female dancing on the table above him.

After half an hour of relaxing and a number 6 with extra dip at the Cluckin' Bell, Tommy received another phone call from Paul, regarding Love Fist again:

"How ya doin' mate? It's Paulo again. Look Tommy, I forgot to mention we're going to need some extra muscle for the concert. A bit of security. There's a biker gang led by Mitch Baker, it would be great publicity. Very rock and roll, baby. Sort this out for me and I'll get you some back passes for the gig, alright?"

Why did he need some extra security? Tommy decided to pay Love Fist a visit to see.

When he got there, Jezz and the rest of the band were waiting, and when they spotted Tommy, they were relieved.

"Tommy, man. Am I glad to see you!" Paul exclaimed happily.

"What's going on?" Tommy asked.

"Bad vibes, Tommy…" Jezz muttered.

"Aye, I'm not joking, it's heavy stuff man, heavy you know?" Percy continued.

"There's this cat, we hardly know him, but he knows us. Like this cat. Knows all about us. Knows that Willy likes his ladies' underwear, eh? Or that Percy likes Duran Duran!" Jezz continued.

"Shut up ye fool. Just 'cause Jezz bangs sheep. It's a love rocket thing, you know?" Percy cut in.

"Yeah, the love rocket thing, right. But listen, this cat…" Jezz began.

"-yeah, yeah, the guy, he wants Love Fist dead." Paul said.

"Dead Tommy. Love Fist gone. You know what they say, the good die young, but Tommy, you gotta save Love Fist!"

"We got a signing in two and a half hours and I think…" Jezz said.

"And the boys think the stalker's gonna try some monkey business there." Paul finished.

Tommy borrowed the band's limo to try and draw the psycho out. He drove down to Rock City, just down the road, and it worked. The fans started to shout "Love Fist! Love Fist!", and in the crowd, Tommy could hear the psycho wearing a wig pulling out a pistol and shooting the security guard, shouting:

"I'll see Love Fist burn! Love Fist ruined my life!"

The psycho ran for a Sentinel and raced off. Tommy followed in the limo, and pulling up close to the psycho, opened fire with his Uzi. He could see the psycho's surprise at 'Love Fist' and 'their' surprising aggression, and the car swerved into a wall, followed by a powerful ram in the side, crushing the psycho inside. Calmly, he drove the limo over to a Pay 'N Spray to repair the damage, before heading back to see Love Fist.

After telling them everything, Tommy headed over to Mitch Baker's biker bar, the Greasy Chopper. He headed in, and was almost immediately confronted by a couple of bikers.

"Where's Baker? I'm looking for Mitch Baker…" Tommy said, trying to prevent himself from looking at a loss. A man with a t-shirt and a tough look came up to Tommy and growled:

"Who's lookin'?" he asked

"Tommy Vercetti."

"Vercetti. You don't look like the law, so that's bought you a minute. You better talk fast."

"Kent Paul said you might be interested in pulling security for a gig he set up."

"Kent Paul? Sheesh! No wonder he sent ya. The last time he was here he left through the window in nothing but his birthday suit."

"Are you interested or not?"

"We only do favours for our own."

"How do I join?" Tommy asked.

"This ain't no country club, boy. Can you handle a bike?"

"Can you sit on a stool and drink?"

"Cougar, Zeppelin, go see how this girl handles a bike."

Tommy followed the two bikers outside, where they gave up a map of a checkpoint race set up by the bikers. He jumped on one of the provided Angel bikes, and waited. As they started the countdown, one of the bikers yelled:

"All right, fancy clothes. Let's see what you can do."

Tommy raced away at the start, managing to hold on and not skid out in the rusty handling and turn of the Angel. The other three crashed out at the turn near the Hyman Condo, and Tommy built up a good lead. He worked his way through checkpoints pulling a late turn to speed up just outside the biker bar for a satisfying and easy victory, and waited for the others to finish.

Tommy walked back into the bar where the Cougar guy told Mitch Baker something. He was playing a game at the table against somebody else, and he motioned for Tommy to come over to him.

"Ah, got ya again." Baker told the man he was playing.

"Hey Vercetti. Cougar says you can handle a bike pretty good," he continued.

"Yeah, how many errands am I gonna have to run? I'm a very busy man. If it's a fight that's gonna settle this, then bring it on." Tommy replied.

"Being one of us ain't just about brawlin'. It's about being a part of a family," the biker leader interrupted.

"Yeah, I've been part of a family before all right. It didn't work out." Tommy grumpily replied.

"Yeah, right, but this family takes care of its own. We don't ask a man to do the dirty work and then let him do fifteen years hard time." Baker said. Then, noticing Tommy's surprise, he said:

"Yeah, that's right. I've done my homework."

"This here's the biggest family of misfits, outcasts and badasses. Hell, some of us have even been betrayed by our own country." Baker continued.

"I was locked up during 'Nam. Ugly business." Tommy said, expecting a reply.

"Which is why I'm gonna asked you to go mess with the man. This whole damn country needs a kick in the ass, and we're the ones to deliver it. So get out there, grab a bike and show this city how pissed you are!" Mitch exclaimed.

"All right, all right."

Tommy had bought a few cases of grenades and an Uzi fitted with a silencer, and he immediately started gunning down policemen and police cars. They all collapsed to his shots, and then Tommy pulled the pin to a couple of grenades and tossed them onto the road, blowing up four vehicles in a chain reaction. Then, he pulled out his M4 and started mowing down the pedestrians. A few minutes, three SWAT vans pulled up near Tommy's position, but Tommy lobbed a few more grenades, killing the rest of them. Mitch Baker, inspecting the carnage, calmly called Tommy to say that it was enough, and he had effectively messed with the man. Tommy headed back inside the bar quickly before the police could send any more reinforcements.

"Hey there, Mitch." Tommy grinned as he re-entered.

"Well, if it ain't bad-ass Vercetti. Now I wanna see how good you can fight for your patch. A local street gang made the mistake of stealing my hog…probably because of some machismo thing or something. Me and the boys would go over there and teach them a lesson in respect and all…Anyway, then I got to thinking-this would make a good initiation for you. You get my bike; you can tell Paul he's got his security." Mitch told him.

Tommy was told that they were holed up behind AmmuNation. He wondered how he was going to get there, and then he spotted a long stretch of steps that lead upwards, so he borrowed a hog, and raced it up those steps from a long speed build-up, and jumped onto the roof of AmmuNation. There were several men with Tec-9s guarding the place. Tommy pulled out his M4 assault rifle and from a hidden position, gunned them down, and then started looking for the bike. There were four men guarding the bike itself, holding formidable Rugers. Tommy picked them off one by one with his Uzi, and made a run for the Angel. Grabbing the clips of two of their Rugers, he looked for an escape route, and saw a ramp leading out of the place. He hit the speed, and jumped it. Luckily, Mitch's Angel had a lot better speed, handling and cornering than the regular Angel hog, and he made it easily.

As he sped back to the bar, he cursed himself for attracting the attention of two or three Gang Burritos who had spotted him. They raced for him, but Tommy steadily kept his distance, ad with the excellent handling, managed to race away from the chasing vans, quickly delivering it to the bar, where one of the bikers raced it off before the vans could see where it went after they had been to the biker bar, which was the most likely place for it to be delivered. Tommy fired his M4 at the vans as they neared, and capped the drivers in two of the vans. The Burritos unloaded two Streetwannabes from the back, but they wasted their advantage with inaccurate shooting from their Tec-9s and were killed by Tommy and three bikers coming out of the bar with Colt 45s. Well, Mitch's work was done. All he had to do was waiting for the phone call, which came very soon afterwards.

"Hey, it's Mitch. You did well, Tommy, it's good to have the old girl back. You tell Kent Paul he'll get his security for the gig. You have my word on that. Now keep yourself out of trouble."

Tommy shut the phone, and he headed over to the boatyard to grab some cash, then over to the ice-cream factory, before returning back to the mansion to store his money in the safe. He had about $10,000 in it, and he had it guarded by two of his men operating on shifts, just in case Sonny's men came to steal some of the green.


	16. The Rockstar Concert

The next day was the Love Fist concert. A few hours before the concert was going to begin, Love Fist sent for Tommy, who had just had a long night at the Malibu Club having a wild time. However, he agreed, and drove over to the recording studio from the Hyman Condo.

It was a gloomy rainy day, but that wasn't going to cancel the concert, which was going to be at a special Love Fist concert hall just down the road from the recording studio. However, the band had other problems, which they immediately made clear to Tommy as he headed upstairs.

"Tommy! Tommy! Tommy, man, that psycho's back!" Percy yelled.

"What's going on?" Tommy asked.

"That psycho wouldn't leave Love Fist alone!"

"You didn't kill him man. And now he's back…" Dick muttered.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and the thing is…" Percy continued.

"The thing is, we need someone to drive the limo we can trust because that nutter keeps making threats!" Willy finished.

After telling Tommy all about what was going on, Tommy finally agreed to it, saying that he wouldn't usually bother driving a bunch of Scottish bisexuals, but for them, he'd make an exception.

The band headed into the Love Fist limo. Tommy couldn't really distinguish their voices, with the thundering rain, so he just listened to their comments.

"At last man, time for a well-earned drink," he heard one of them say.

"The venue's just a hundred yards down the road."

"Better make it a large one then."

"Hey Tommy, change the tunes, man."

Tommy grumpily stopped the tape and started looking for another one. One of them passed a tape over, saying:

"I get confused if my head ain't banging. Ah look, what's this? Hey Tommy, stick this tape on."

An unfamiliar voice came over the limo.

"Love Fist. Your time polluting the airwaves is over. I gave you the chance to be friends. Now I'm giving you the chance to die. Try to slow down and your limousine will explode, along with your big hairy arses."

A wave of panic rippled through the band. Tommy however, calmly turned the engine and sped off to a steady 60km, and keeping the speed until they figured out how to remove the bomb. However, the others were losing it.

"Tommy pal, you gotta save the band," one pleaded.

"I'm getting bored of this." Tommy gloomily replied, pulling a turn into the long stretch of road across the west island.

"Just keep the pedal to the metal!"

"We gotta find the bomb!"

"Can't we just drive around all day? Aye, we've got plenty to drink…"

"Won't the bomb not be in the engine? We'll have to stop to get it."

"We're all going to die! I'm gonna get drunk!"

"Hey, there's a queue here, pal!"

"The answer ain't in the drink cabinet!"

"Get out of my way!"

One of them however, had found something interesting, and with what Tommy could see in the rear-screen mirror, a bottle of some sort attached with several wires.

"Hey, the vodka bottle's got wires coming out of it!"

"That's not vodka, that's BOOMSHINE!"

"WAAAAGHHHH! And it's wired to blow!" one of them cried.

"WAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!" all of them screamed in fear.

"They always said the drink would kill me."

"I've seen this on the telly; you gotta pull out one of the wires."

"Which wire?"

"I don't know, man. I don't have a clue."

"Willy, say something. I'm gonna play bass in hell."

"Tommy man, keep driving fast, pal. Somebody do something. Aye, clever!"

"'Somebody do something', what kind of crap is that, I've seen braver girls."

"Okay tough guy, you do something…"

By now, Tommy had reached the Vice Ports, and had to pull off a few turns in order to head back up the other direction.

"Look, man, I play a musical instrument. I don't have a clue about bomb disposal."

"Willy could just suck the boomshine out of a straw."

"Aye, I've heard that you're good at that kind of thing."

"Hey, I was off my tits that night as well you know!"

"Just pass Willy a straw!"

"A straw! This is the Love Fist Tour Bus!"

"Where am I gonna get a straw from, know what I mean?"

"Which wire, Tommy?"

"The green one." Tommy muttered.

"There isn't a green one! Or is this one green?"

"Any of those wires look green to you?"

"Oh no! Death's on the cards! Everything looks green!"

For once, Tommy actually recognised somebody's voice: it was Jezz:

"I should have dumped you lot when I had the chance," he grumbled.

This caused yet another row.

"Glory seeker."

"Capitalist."

"I've been carrying you for years."

"Shut up. You're a muppit."

"A big screaming girl."

"Shut up and pull a wire."

"Which wire?"

"This one…"

There was a click, and the wire was pulled apart. Then one of them yelled:

"NO! Man, we're okay. We ain't been blown up."

"Tommy, man, nice one. Rock and roll, man."

"Ain't we got a gig to go to? A racket to make? Groupies to abuse? LOVE FIST!"

The rest of them began chanting the name of their band, until one of them asked:

"Have you finished with that bottle?"

Finally, the limousine pulled up at the Love Fist Concert stage. As a personal token of gratitude, the band showed him what they called the "Temple of Rock", before they prepared themselves for the concert. When it started, Tommy watched the work that had happened: a large number of screaming fans, Kent Paul, and Baker and several of his bikers providing the security that he had promised, and of course, the band itself, Love Fist. Hell, Tommy thought, maybe now he would listen to VROCK a bit more.

Even after the concert, some good news came. Tommy received a call from the biker gang leader.

"Hello, Tommy?" came Baker's voice.

"Yeah?" Tommy replied.

"It's Baker. I just wanted to say I really enjoyed the show. Me and the boys want to thank you, and remind you, you got our respect. Good day. Keep riding hard, son."

Tommy grinned to himself and the cash that Love Fist had given him as a reward for his work, and decided to pay a visit to Avery, who had just returned to town, and ask for any other business he could think of.

When he arrived at Avery's construction site, Avery was waiting with a man he had seen at the Colonel's party, all that time ago. He didn't know his name, and Avery introduced him.

"Tommy, this is Donald Love. Donald, this here is Tommy Vercetti, the latest gunslinger to come to these parts." Avery said.

"Yeah…uh…" Donald began, but Avery interrupted him.

"Donald, you just shut up and listen, and you might learn something. Now, nothing brings down real estate prices quicker than a good old-fashioned gang war-except maybe a disaster, like a biblical plague or something, but that may be going too far in this case." Avery said.

"You getting this down, you four-eyed prick?" Avery asked sharply, staring at Donald. Seeing him scribbling, he continued,

"Now recently a Haitian gang-lord died. Apparently the Cubans did it, nobody's certain. But let's make them certain! You disguise yourself as a Cuban hombre and head on down to crash that funeral. Mix it up and then high-tail it."

"You getting this down, Donald?"

"Well, that ought to put the coyote in the chicken coop, huh? And then we'll sit back, and watch the prices tumble."

Tommy drove over to Little Havana, and jacked a Cuban Hermes, before buying some threads at Little Havana Streetwear, which sold plenty of Cuban gang colours. After he was outfitted, he checked on the map for where the funeral was supposed to be. It was occurring at the Little Haiti Well Stacked Pizza restaurant. Pulling out his Uzi, he took a deep breath and sped towards Little Haiti. Luckily, no Haitian gang members spotted him, which was pretty unusual, and he parked the Cuban Hermes behind some bushes, and peeked to have a sighter. He gulped. About ten men, all holding Uzis and a couple placed on a few run-down houses with M4, which Tommy wondered how they even got their hands on. This was definitely one important funeral. He gunned the Cuban Hermes for the funeral place, and as he pulled up, opened fire with the Uzi, and then quickly spinning around for a second burst. His drive-by was so effective and so swift that the Haitians didn't even spot the speeding Cuban Hermes, as a few men slumped to the ground.

Tommy gunned it across again, this time aiming a bit more carefully, and spotting a Haitian guarded by three men around him. Assuming this was probably the new Haitian warlord; he aimed his Uzi at him, and fired a spray of bullets. This temporary delay though, had the Haitians back on their feet and they opened fire on the Cuban Hermes. As a series of bullets took out the Haitian gang-lord, several bullets struck the frame of the Cuban Hermes, a few nearly striking Tommy.

"Damn!" Tommy yelled.

He sped the Cuban Hermes away, and at a safe distance, took down the remaining men, before grabbing their ammo, and getting out of this stuffed-up part of town as quickly as he could, before he went back to tell Avery.

Avery gave him a good $2500 for the dirty deed, and gave the business tips that Tommy had originally gone to him for. He told him that all he needed was a decent company that could prove some good use. Tommy remembered the Kaufman Cabs he had spotted during his brief drive-by in Little Haiti. After changing out of these threads, he would go there and have a look.


	17. Kaufman Cabs

The Kaufman Cabs taxi firm costed $40,000, but Tommy just had enough green to slip that in, and he headed into the interior. There were several drivers polishing their cabs, and one lady waiting for him. As he approached her, she waved for him to come over.

"Guess you're the new owner. Just grab a taxi from the garage f you feel like jumping in. What are you, mob? Cartel? You don't look Mexican…" she said, jumping into business immediately.

"Anyhow, I guess you better get on with the 'things are gonna change around here' crap, maybe threaten one of the drivers-go steady on Ted over there, he's just had his hernia fixed," she continued.

"Well, yeah. Things are going to change around here, lady." Tommy began uncertainly.

"Oh crap, sonny. Might as well leave this to me-I've been doing this for years. Now hear this," she said.

"We are now under new management and things are going to change around here again. Our new management, the-Which gang are you?" she asked sharply.

"Well, I'm not part of any gang actually." Tommy replied, still feeling uneasy.

"What's your goddamned name, kid?"

"Vercetti, Tommy Vercetti."

"Our new management, the Vercetti Gang, is gonna make sure we get no trouble. Capiche? Out!" the lady yelled. Then, she turned to Tommy, saying:

"Did you like the 'capiche'? I liked the 'capiche'. So this is how it's worked in the past, we run the firm as usual. If we get any trouble from rival firms, you beat the crap out of them. Then they beat the crap out of us, and then you beat the crap out of them, etcetera, etcetera. You got it?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess…" Tommy muttered, before heading over to take his private cab for a ride.

The cab was newly painted with a glossy yellow, and it shone in the daylight of Vice City. Tommy drove it over to his mansion on Starfish Island and added a few weapons to the trunk, and just as he drove off, he heard the radio of the cab buzz, and the lady's voice flickered on.

"Okay, we got a high-class fare needs picking up from Starfish Island-any takers?" she asked.

"Tommy here, I'll take it!" Tommy yelled through the cab microphone.

He drove over to the fare's large townhouse, and honked the horn. As the elderly high-class man walked out, a taxi belonging to Kaufman Cab's rivals, VC Cabs, sped out in front of him, the driver yelling "This is my fare, back off asshole!" The elderly man, looking both amused and shocked, had no choice but to get in the rival taxi.

"Bitch." Tommy muttered, as he sped after the taxi.

He rear-ended the taxi as it tried to turn, sending it spinning into the wall of Cherry Popper Ice Cream Factory. There was a sickening crunch as it struck the wall, and the passenger got out, his nose bleeding.

"Come on, come on, and get in quick!" Tommy yelled.

"Ok, ok! Just don't hurt me, take me to the airport!" the passenger replied.

Tommy handed him a tissue, and gunned away from the VC Taxi still untangling itself after the crash. By that time, Tommy had already raced past the Little Havana Police Station and the taxi had no chance to catch him. Tommy smirked to himself, and dropped the man off at the airport. The man tipped him off with a generous $1000, despite what he had been through for just a taxi ride. Tommy drove back to the mansion to deposit the money in his safe, before getting in the Kaufman Cab again.

Half an hour later, he had another task to do. The lady once again messaged the Cabs.

"Calling all cars, we're losing fares all over town. What's with you guys?" she asked.

"VC Cabs keep beating us to it. They've just got too many cars-we can't compete!" came a driver's annoyed voice.

"Mr Vercetti, if you're out there listening in, you gotta put some VC Cabs outta action before we go bust!" the lady yelled, her voice spilling out words faster and faster.

Tommy sighed, replied in the affirmative on his microphone, and drove off looking for some cabbie destruction. Luckily, he found his way to the VC Cabs Company itself, and exploded about ten cabs with a couple of grenades, but not before he smashed open a few windows and taking the cash inside the taxis. He found about $2000 in total. When he was done, he made a run for it, and destroyed another three cabs around town with drive-bys, shooting one parked taxi in Little Haiti. Satisfied, he drove back to the mansion for another round of cash to be deposited.

Not very soon after, Tommy was called on yet again. This time although, was going to be a task he was going to enjoy.

"Car 13, we got a Miss Cortez, asked for you _especially_, waiting for you to pick her up in that empty space where that 8-Ball garage is in Vice Port." the lady announced.

"Ok, I got it. Car 13 out!" Tommy yelled.

He drove his cab over to the place Mercedes requested, and waited for her. When Tommy couldn't see her, he honked his horn. Confused, Tommy peeked out of the window and muttered:

"Hmm, no sign of Mercedes."

He was distracted by a bunch of VC Taxis, six in total, drive out from a gate and face him. Tommy cursed, but he always enjoyed a challenge. He first sped the cab towards the taxis, who obliged by charging at him. Tommy sped around them, and then made a break for the sea, as if trying to bail out in the water. Just before he reached the edge, he slammed the handbrake, and came to a complete halt, before watching three of the taxis pile into the water. Chuckling to himself, he slid to a stop, and getting out, withdrew an Uzi from the glove department, waiting for the remaining taxis' and their reaction. Expecting a ram, he grinned as the drivers got out, brandishing weapons. Ducking out from behind the cab, he mowed them down with Uzi fire, watching them drop, bodies full of lead.

However, the fight wasn't over yet. This time, a cab with a black stripes custom paint job pulled up, the driver yelling "It's time for Kaufman Cab's guardian angel to eat some fender!" Tommy smiled, and quickly pulling out his M4 from the trunk, fired a burst of rounds that took out the tyres. The driver got out, wielding a katana.

"Oh pur-lease." Tommy muttered, putting the cabby's head in his sights.

He gave the man a chance to get to a close distance before he fired a series of rounds that smashed through his skull, killing him. Then, he walked up to the zebra cab, and inspected it. It was a pretty cool car and looked nice, despite the capped tyres, but it didn't matter anyway, and Tommy removed all his weapons, and placed them into the trunk of the zebra cab, before driving back to the taxi firm. He also found a case of $5000 inside the cab, which was sweet enough, despite not being able to see Mercedes. Hell, this could have been the favour he owed her. But Tommy didn't need to worry about that when he got back to Kaufman Cabs.

Several of the cab drivers were waiting for him, and they told him that the lady had said that the cab company could really compete with VC Cabs now, and they would be sending $5000 of the cash they earned a week over to his mansion, and that they would have his own private zebra cab waiting for him as well. Not bad at all. Tommy wondered when Sonny would notice what was going on.


	18. Tommy versus the Haitians

Tommy drove around town collecting money from all his assets. He collected $2000 from the boatyard, waving at Dwayne and Jethro along with several boat builders all huddled around a newly built Squallo, $3000 from the Ice Cream Factory, $5000 from the taxi firm before heading over to the Pole Position Club to get his share of the daily cash.

Depositing the $10000, as he drove along the bridge over to the coffee shop to get some donuts, he remembered something BJ Smith said during the Colonel's party about owning a car dealership. After eating his double-chocolate coated doughnuts, he drove over to try and see a price with BJ. He was expecting some sort of price of around $100,000. When he got there, he found the Mambas superstar pacing around the place, not having much to do. Although the showroom didn't look quite at its best, there were several garages, and Tommy liked that.

Waving over to BJ, and showing the case of money, he headed over to him, and they shook hands.

"B.J. Smith. And you must be Mr. Vercetti. The business wasn't too strong, and my staff took it upon themselves to get a bit more creative with the generation of wealth. Obviously, I could wind down the business before I hand it over. Hell, I could burn this place down if I wanted to. This is prime development land." BJ greeted him, and explained the showroom.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about any of that. This place seems perfect." Tommy replied enthusiastically.

"Yeah it does. So I take it we have a deal?"

Tommy grinned, and nodded.

"Would you like the tour?" BJ asked.

"Might as well." Tommy answered, and they began walking through the place.

"Well, I'm very sad to be selling the dealership to y'all. This was my first investment after I turned pro." BJ continued as they walked.

"But now it's time for me to move on."

"You're leaving town? Not in too much of a hurry, I hope?" Tommy asked, shocked, not quite getting the point.

"No. I'm just coming out of retirement, and preparing my future comeback." BJ calmly replied.

The star football player showed him the spacious garages, the Spray 'N Go, the billboard where he could enter Vice City Street Races and the garage where they were giving cash out for specific cars nailed on a list just outside. After the tour was done, Tommy gave BJ Smith the price he requested for the showroom, $50K worth of cash. Tommy waved a goodbye to BJ Smith as he led him over to a Banshee, and told him that he would call him once he had the showroom up and running again. Now he turned to have a look at the car list. They requested a couple of SUVs, a Landstalker and a Rancher, an Esperanto and a few other cars. Over the next half an hour, Tommy completed the list, and earned a nice flashy Deluxo sports car in the showroom. Satisfied, he also put on a few advertisements for the Sunshine Autos garage repairs. When they were done, the garage men had put up another list, which this time, included sedan sort of cars, and even a Stretch limo. However, that didn't worry Tommy, as he had a limo drove over to his mansion whenever required, as long as he ordered and paid for it.

By the evening, Tommy had completely changed the look of the Sunshine Autos. He had a Sentinel, a Deluxo, and a Sabre Turbo on the first floor, then heading upstairs, he had a Sand Masters Sandking SUV, and a Hotring Racer used at the Hyman Memorial Stadium. His ads had obviously made their impact as well, with even the Vice City newspapers already having advertisements around the covers. Tommy was happy with the day, and the general way of things. He would take an early nap, and look for another property to buy.

The next morning, Sunshine Autos had plenty of customers dropping in for a fix at the Spray 'N Go, or coming in to buy a new car. Tommy also phoned BJ, who dropped by after lunch, to show him through the place he had turned into a glory in barely a day. BJ was grinning, and he gave a high-five to Tommy as he left. Tommy was notified by his workers that the boss usually gets half of the profit they made per week, and that was good, since they were going to be making nearly $20,000 a week.

Tommy just didn't feel like acquiring another property at the moment, so he cruised around Vice City for about half an hour, listening to Maurice Chavez. Just as he was going back to his mansion, his cell phone rang.

"Hey Leo! I got some work for you!" a Hispanic voice yelled.

"This ain't Leo." Tommy calmly replied.

"Hey, if Leo know you got his phone, he gonna kill you!"

"Maybe Leo's already dead. Maybe I killed Leo and took his phone-you think of that prick?" Tommy shot back.

"You killed Leo? You must have big cojones-wanna work for me! Drop by my father's café in Little Havana and we'll talk mano a mano."

Tommy shrugged, and he drove off to the only café he knew in Little Havana, Café Robina. He guessed right. There was a fat man sitting on the stool, next to an elderly man, who Tommy guessed was his father.

"Si, men?" the elderly man asked as he approached.

"Hey, easy Papi, this man's for me. You, you the boy? Oh yeah. You the boy. I think so, you know?" the younger man said.

"No. I don't think I do." Tommy replied.

"Oh yeah? You come here, tough guy. You think you can take me on? You think you can play stupid with me?"

"No, I think you're playing plenty stupid enough for both of us." Tommy replied, getting annoyed just a touch.

"Hey, he call you dumb, son," the elderly man piped up.

"And I call him a little girl, Papi. Look at him, all dressed up like that." his son replied, pointing at Tommy.

"What is this, ladies' night? You some kind of tough guy, you dress like a woman? You got on panties like a woman too, huh?" he continued.

"What you got against women? You prefer men, big boy?" Tommy asked.

"I like women! I like all women! I love my mother, chico!"

"All right, all right, I'll take your word for it. Relax." Tommy replied.

"Can you drive amigo?" the man suddenly asked.

"Yeah…like a woman."

"Very funny. I like you, big boy. Maybe you can help. Maybe you can prove you are a man. Huh? Take out the boat. Show me you got some big cojones, and not some little bitty chiquita ones."

After finally introducing himself as Umberto and his father as Alberto, Umberto showed him the place where he was supposed to go, just under the Leaf Links Bridge, where he would meet a man called Rico. Tommy got there, and he was surprised to notice ramps mounted all around the place. The man wore a Cuban outfit, and greeted him as he climbed downwards.

"Hey, I'm Rico. You the man with the big cojones?" he asked.

"Tommy Vercetti. Let's go." Tommy replied.

"Okay man, treat her like a woman." Rico replied, pointing at the boat and giving him a map.

Tommy had to guide the boat through a course and back within two minutes. After a quick review of the map, Tommy gunned the engine and sped off. Within a few seconds, he could spot a ramp ready for him to jump over this part of the Leaf Links. Umberto definitely had prepared a challenge for him. But he sped up, and hit the ramp cleanly, landing nicely. As the boat struck the water, Rico yelled:

"Amigo, you the man, man!"

Tommy continued speeding on, racing along at nearly a hundred miles an hour. He turned sharply, and sped on. There was a boat he swerved away from, and from that, not too far away, was another ramp. He hit it, only to realise that he didn't have to jump over the bridge. He slowed down, almost to a halt, and hit it softly.

"Call yourself a man, man?" Rico called.

From then on, there was yet another ramp, which Tommy hit reasonably well, and from the rest of it, he cruised through, registering a time just inside the two minutes, 1:54. However, Rico was very pleased, and as he dropped him off, he called:

"You got big cojones, amigo!"

Tommy smiled to himself, and 'borrowing' the nearby parked Predator police boat, he drove his way back to the mainland and then jacking an Idaho back to Café Robina. He spotted Alberto Robina as he headed inside, and he greeted him politely.

"Un cafecito, por favour, Alberto…" Tommy said respectfully.

"No hay problema, Tommy." Alberto replied.

"Papi! Un granda problema!" Umberto shouted, running out.

"Umberto my son, what happened?" Alberto asked.

"The Haitians! I hate these Haitians! They mess with me for the last time! These Haitians! We take 'em out! Only we need some backup. I lost a few hermanos already out there." Umberto explained, turning to Tommy.

"Amigo, you drive good!' Umberto exclaimed.

"For a woman. Right?" replied Tommy.

"This is no time for joking! Come on, drive for me again! Take my boys over there, and then we'll take these Haitians down! They mess with me; they mess with the biggest boy in town!"

Tommy shrugged, and after jacking a Rancher, he motioned for the three young Cubans to join him. They all carried Tec-9s, but they didn't look like men who had fought before. As they got in, one of them yelled:

"We're gonna fight like men!"

They cheered, and Tommy warned them to try and not show their faces in Little Haiti. He drove briskly over to where the fighting was going on, at a Haitian drug factory. He could see the Haitians, hiding behind a roadblock made of a Stinger convertible, so they could duck up and pop a few shots when needed. There were already a few dead and alive Cubans alike at the scene. One was Rico. He greeted Tommy as the new reinforcements charged out.

"Hey, amigo. Glad you could make it. Stinking nest of Haitians, we gonna kill them all!" Rico yelled.

"CHAAAARGGGEEE!" Rico screamed.

The Haitians were well-quipped, Tommy noticed. They had not only got their hands on some Uzis, but a few even had military-issue assault rifles. Tommy quickly gave the Cubans some covering fire, taking out the Haitians behind the roadblock, before exploding the Stinger.

"Now, my brothers, CHAAAARRRGGEEE!" Rico yelled.

The Cubans rushed forward, but to their dismay, they were cut down by a sniper appearing on the rooftop.

"They fight like girls, take cover!" Rico yelled. Then, as Tommy and the remaining Cubans took cover, he phoned Umberto:

"We need reinforcements from the café!"

Not soon later, another taxi full of Cubans joined the fight, and took cover behind the walls.

"Take out that cowardly sniper!" Rico told Tommy.

Tommy calmly ducked out of cover, aimed carefully, and capped the sniper in the head with his M4.

"Fight like men with huge cojones!" Rico yelled, and the Cubans charged once more.

This time, the Cubans worked forward successfully, and Tommy, noticing a nice PSG-1 semi-automatic sniper rifle, picked off several Haitians. After scavenging their weapons, Tommy noticed a van, probably full of drugs.

"Tommy, we have proved our manful bravery! Let us steal this van of drugs and make good our escape!" yelled Rico.

Tommy made a run for the van, taking out a few Haitians with his Uzi. The remaining Cubans followed, piling into the back of the van, and with bullets striking the van, Tommy drove it back to the café as quickly as he could, avoiding the police cars coming by the drug factory to investigate.

Tommy got $3000 for his two combined jobs, and Umberto offered him a share of the drugs, but Tommy gladly declined, having had drugs completely grown out of his interest. Hell, he didn't think he had ever had any interest in narcotics. He would see Umberto next morning.


	19. Interglobal Films

Tommy woke up at the Hyman Condo. _What the_, he thought. He never remembered going over to Hyman Condo. He went to the mansion after his missions for Umberto, or that's what he remembered doing. Getting up groggily, he dressed, and went downstairs to the garage, and to his surprise, found his Admiral inside, along with three cases of cash inside it. Tommy counted it to be $7000, and still confused, flew the helicopter on the rooftop back to the mansion to deposit it.

When he drove over to the café, he greeted Alberto.

"Alberto. Una café, senor." Tommy grinned.

"Poppa, don't serve this snake in the straw. You're two-faced, Tommy! You're either two-faced, or you're a wimp, baby boy! The Haitians, man. They're laughing at me!" Umberto yelled, pacing over to where Tommy was.

"Easy, easy. What's your problem?" Tommy asked, confused.

"They're laughing at me, Tommy. At me! Umberto Robina! They're doing what they like!"

"Nobody does whatever they like, Umberto, they do what you let them do."

"What?"

"You want somebody taken care of? I can handle it, but it's gonna cost you. I know we're brothers and all, but this is business." Tommy said.

"Tommy. You a real man. Businessman, a gentleman. These Haitians. They have a load of product coming in off-shore, really good stuff. We take it, and we finish them. You take it, and I look after you. Like my brother. Like my son."

"I think I prefer the cash to being bounced on your knee, amigo." Tommy replied.

Umberto shrugged, and told him to meet Rico near the Vice Ports. Tommy pulled up to an excited-looking Rico, next to his Cuban Jetmax.

"Hey Rico. Nice boat, you ready?" Tommy asked.

"Si Tommy. Now you be a good shot today, my boat, she no good full of holes, okay?" Rico replied cheerfully.

Tommy nodded, and readying his M4, they made their way into the boat.

The Jetmax eventually pulled up nearby a deal between the Sharks and the Haitians. Tommy, withdrawing the PSG-1 he had kept from that first gang war, sniped as many of the men on the boats as he could. As they fell, the Jetmax sped forward, and Tommy fired at the boats with his M4 like crazy. Several shots pinged the oxygen tank of one, and there was a massive chain-reaction. The boats at the deal were blown-up, and Rico dropped Tommy off near the shore. He swam to grass, and ducked behind a bush. There were several Shark gangsters with Rugers, and also a few Haitians with Uzis. They had started firing at Rico, but they missed most of the shots. Tommy, ducking from behind the bush, began firing his M4, running as he did. By the time he had burned through half his clip, several of the Sharks were down. As his clip went empty, there were still three or four hostiles to clear out. Quickly, he switched to his Uzi and as accurately as he could, hosed down the remaining men. He grabbed their cash and the briefcases full of what he supposed, were drugs, and headed for Rico.

He didn't get anything. He spotted a Dinghy with two Haitians speeding over. One was pulling a pin on a grenade.

"Dive!" yelled Tommy at Rico.

Rico, spinning around in his boat, spotted the Haitians approaching fast, and obliged, diving out of the Jetmax and swimming to shore. Tommy fired a series of rounds fro his Uzi, but it was too late for the grenade to detonate and blow up the boat.

"Damn!" Rico shouted.

Tommy motioned for him, and they sprinted for a parked Gang Burrito van which the Sharks had probably come with. They sped back to Umberto's, somehow not attracting any police attention.

Tommy got $4000 for his work, and Umberto said that he could drop by for some work later, but for now, he could relax. Tommy happily obliged, and drove over to the Pole Position Club for a rest and a dance.

Half an hour later, Tommy walked out of the Pole Position Club, a bit dazed but generally happy. He had nearly every sort of business in this town now: a boatyard, a drug front, a strip club, a car showroom and a taxi firm. He remembered on one of his trips to Prawn Island, the InterGlobal Films Movie Studios, and decided this was a good time to purchase it. So he drove over to his mansion, filled a case of $60,000 in cash, and drove over to Prawn Island, and immediately purchased the Movie Studio. When he had, he had a look around the studios, but he wasn't very happy.

"Just a load of crap…" muttered Tommy.

He could hear voices in Studio D, and paying a visit, spotted the film director who he had seen at the party, Steve Scott.

"Action," came Steve's voice.

"Whoa! Now that's big," a female voice exclaimed.

"12 inches. That is regulation, baby," a male voice replied.

Steve turned, and spotted Tommy walking over to him. Angrily, he shouted and faced Tommy.

"CUT! Who is this idiot? You! YOU! Why are you in my space? WHY?" Steve asked furiously.

"What is all this crap? Aliens? Fishing poles? Who's ever seen a shark that big? All this stuff's gotta go." Tommy said. He looked straight at Steve, and continued:

"Why'd you get in this business, ya prick? Huh? For the pussy, that's why! What is this?" Tommy asked sharply.

"This is my art-SECURITY!" Steve began, but Tommy cut him off.

"Look, you pompous asshole, I own you now. I own all of this. We're gonna turn this place around. I'm gonna make you rich."

"Uh. You're-you-you're Tommy Vercetti? But I thought you were…" Steve replied, utterly shocked.

"That's right. We're gonna be making some changes around here and start making some real money."

"Actually, have you ever thought about…um…?"

"But first, we're going to need some good-looking broads."

"Yeah, girls are fine, but you…whew!"

Tommy borrowed a Patriot from the movie studio, and thought carefully about who to pick. Mercedes was always a good option, so Tommy drove Downtown, as he remembered she was at the pizza parlour every afternoon about this time. However, as he drove his Patriot, he spotted a gold limo drop off Candy Suxx, the woman Alex Shrub had gone with to the party. She would make a good option, thought Tommy. He got out of his Patriot, and introduced himself to her.

"Yo, Candy. I'm looking for some movie talent-you interested?" Tommy asked.

"Sure! But you'd have to talk to my agent…" Candy replied, kind of embarrassed.

The agent, who seemed to also be her pimp, drove by with a Sentinel.

"The HELL are you doin'?" he yelled angrily at both Tommy and Candy.

"You should have stayed at home today!" Tommy told Candy as he made his way up to the 'agent'.

"Can you believe this asshole?" the pimp yelled, and immediately three thugs got out with bats and Tec-9s and began attacking Tommy.

"Prick." Tommy muttered, as he dived from the fire, and quickly drove off in pursuit of the Sentinel in his Patriot.

The Patriot had a good head of steam once it had enough speed, and Tommy rammed the Sentinel with huge force and it made a turn. The Sentinel smashed into a wall, and flipped over. Tommy drove alongside it, and fired a wave of bullets, exploding the pimp's car and killing him instantly. Calmly, he drove back to see Candy, and ran over the three thugs who the pimp had set upon him. Candy was looking pretty amused, and she was probably pretty happy as well.

"Come on, let's go," she said.

Tommy drove over to Well Stacked Pizza to find Mercedes.

"Hey Mercedes! Tommy greeted her.

"Hey Tommy! You wanna party?" Mercedes replied.

"Not now sweets. You interested in doing some movies?"

"Of course. As long as it's cheap and sleazy."

"Heh heh-you're hired!" Tommy grinned, and the two girls followed him into the Patriot.

They drove back together back to the movie studio, and the two girls got out and walked into the studio.

"Tommy, you coming in for a warm-up?" Mercedes asked.

"Maybe later, babe…" Tommy replied.

"Whoa, cool shark!" Candy exclaimed as they walked into the studio.

Tommy, satisfied, took a closer look at this place. It wasn't as bad as he had first thought. There even was an M4 assault rifle hidden in a studio that was representing the landing of the first man on the moon. He sat in the back of the studio, and then his cell phone rang.

"Tommy." Sonny's voice came over the phone, and it didn't sound too happy.

"Sonny." Tommy calmly replied.

"Obviously you are suffering from hearing problems, so I'll try again. Where's the goddamn money, where's the goddamned stuff, and where's my cut, of your new action! You are making an idiot out of me Tommy, and I'm not laughing yet."

Tommy found this rather amusing as he shut the phone. About time Sonny had realised he wasn't going to get the money for some time. He decided to go back in the studio again.

The crew had already started filming, two men carrying a scene.

"How's filming going, Steve?" Tommy asked.

"Well, Candy is a natural and that new girl-she's insatiable!" Steve exclaimed, as Mercedes gave Tommy a grin before she went back.

"She went through half the cast and crew-before I even took a light reading. Anyway, hey, tomorrow we're going on location to shoot the boat scenes." Steve continued.

"Boat scenes! What boat scenes?" Tommy asked, confused.

"The fishermen are in the throes of passion when this giant shark comes in-"Steve began.

"What'd I say about the giant shark? I said, 'NO GIANT SHARK', all right? Just keep the cameras pointed at the poontang."

"Ok, ok, hey Tommy, a guy's gotta try, all right?"

"Got those flyers printed up?"

"Yeah, but nobody's gonna let us distribute these things, I mean, they're just too, uh, they're unimaginative."

"You don't worry about that. I've got my own ideas for distribution."

"Okay. Hey, Candy, uh-in my trailer."

Tommy had spotted a Dodo seaplane near the back pier, and it seemed a great way to distribute them rather than give them to people. He ordered several movie studio guys to get all the flyers they had made, and to fit them into the Dodo. Once they were ready, he flicked on the engine of the seaplane, and flew off, ready to distribute some flyers. He had to distribute the flyers all over the west island before the fuel ran out. Carefully, he headed over to the bridge, and opened the hatch where all the flyers were. The porn flyers started flapping out, and slowly dropped down to the awe-struck pedestrians. Tommy grinned and he passed all over the west island, before turning back for the movie studio.

He didn't get anything. The fuel meter was dropping rapidly now, and Tommy couldn't control the Skimmer's descent. He manoeuvred one way, but didn't get anything.

"Shit!" he cursed.

With nothing else to choose, he readied himself for the 'ejector seat'. As the Skimmer was about to crash on the ground, he dived out, mid-air, and landed on the ground with a thump. The Skimmer blew up, but Tommy didn't care. It wasn't needed anyway, and it was a perfect end to distributing the flyers. Brushing himself, he jacked a car and drove over to the Hyman Condo, and flew his chopper over to the movie studio.

When he entered the studio to tell Steve, the film director looked bothered again, this time, on the phone.

"Okay, what's the problem now?" Tommy calmly asked.

"Sssshhhhh!" Steve muttered into the phone. After slamming the phone down, he turned back to Tommy.

"Well, after his close encounter with the nympho-invaders, our hero finds himself unable to think of anything but this huge phallic mountain-and that's when I wanted to do the scene with the vat of mashed potatoes, but then we, uh-" Steve continued.

"I don't give a crap about that! Just keep going, keep going! You mentioned something about some legal problem on the phone?" Tommy asked.

"Congressman Alex Shrub has jumped on the pre-election bandwagon; he's going after the puritan vote. Rumours are he's gonna support measures to restrict, shall we say, the more fleshy aspects of this nation's great entertainment industry." Steve explained.

"Candy! You know Shrub, you guys get up to anything kinky?" Tommy shouted to Candy.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah! Yes yes yes YES ooohhh!" Candy replied enthusiastically.

"Please-tell me you got that." Steve said.

"Was that part of the, uh…or was she talking to…?" Tommy stuttered, temporarily losing his cool.

"Hey, I can never tell. Anyway...you're probably best following her after the shoot, see if she'll lead you to their new love nest." Steve told Tommy.

"You got a camera?" asked Tommy.

"Yeah. Get him a camera." Steve told one of the men.

Tommy was issued with a camera, and he sat in the Maverick which he had flown from, waiting for the shooting to finish. When he saw Candy walk out of the studio, perhaps for a break or maybe shooting had finished for the day, he flew his Maverick above the movie studio, and carefully watched her. Slowly, a gold Stretch limousine pulled up, and the porn star got inside. Tommy cautiously followed the limo as it drove into Vice Point, and eventually pulled up outside the hotel where Tommy had killed Gonzalez. Quickly, Tommy landed in the grass of the building opposite to it, the WK Chariot Hotel. He ran to the open door of the place, and headed upstairs to the highest point. Then, he slipped a sound enhancer on the camera and listened carefully to Shrub and Candy as she came up to meet him. To his amusement, Tommy saw that Shrub was wearing _tights and high-heels_.

"Hey!" Candy greeted the Congressman.

"Uh, Candy, could you call me Martha?" Shrub stuttered.

"Oh Alex-I mean Martha. Whatever you say…"

Tommy smirked, and he quickly took three photos. Unfortunately, the snaps were too loud, and Candy took a glance to the building, spotting him.

"Martha, somebody's watching…how kinky," she announced.

"Shit." Tommy muttered to himself as he headed downstairs.

But he could hear footsteps coming up, and spotted two FBI guys coming upstairs.

"You! Give me that camera!" one of them yelled at Tommy.

Tommy pointedly refused, and the two men opened fire with their Uzis on Tommy. Tommy took a breath, and jumped between the gaps of the stairs. He landed on his stomach, but groaning, he still managed to run for the chopper, and getting in, flew off.

There were FBI Ranchers swarming towards the WK Chariot Hotel, but of course, they couldn't reach the fleeing helicopter, though most of the FBI agents started squirting at Tommy with their MP5s. A few bullets struck the chopper, but that wasn't enough to bring it down. Tommy flew off back to the studio to give the information to Steve. Candy was getting driven back to the movie studio as well. Tommy flew the chopper a bit lower, but then, he spotted FBI guys with Ranchers, probably Shrub's personal bodyguards. They were holding MP5s, and M4s. Tommy flew over them, parked the Maverick helicopter, and made a run for the Studio, quickly handing Steve the camera, before flying off in the Maverick back to his helipad, to erase the evidence.

Then, he grabbed a PCG-600, and he sped back to the movie studio for another task.


	20. In and Out with a Bang

Tommy walked back into the studio where they were actually still shooting the scene. Candy was looking rather shocked though, and she couldn't believe what had just happened.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't swallow this right now." Candy muttered sadly.

"Oh, _come on_, darling! He's hung like a sperm whale for pity's sake, how can you not feel the part!" Steve tried to convince her.

"But Stevie…"

"How's my star director?" Tommy asked, as he walked towards them.

"Oh, man. The struggle between the artistic integrity and the humping, pumping action continues unabated. And before you ask, yes, all four videos will be released by their..." Steve continued, and then looked at Candy.

"Honey, can you PLEASE keep the anaconda in the shot, he costs more per hour than you do!" Steve asked.

"Oh sorry, Steve." Candy apologised.

"I was thinking, we need some kind of big stunt to really promote the launch. Something that will make a real impact on the city-you got any ideas?" Tommy asked the film director.

"Well, in the old days they used to have gala events, stars, limos, the night sky crisscrossed with searchlights…"

"Searchlights! I've got an idea…" Tommy exclaimed.

"...yeah, yeah, yeah. The little sequined numbers, and the limos, oh, premieres. Oh, yes ma'am, of course ma'am, and the press, and the barrage of lights..." Steve continued.

Tommy left him to his imagining and set to work.

He climbed on the PCG-600 he came in, and told Steve to get a lighting of Candy's boobs. Steve, noticing his idea, agreed and a few minutes later, Tommy was speeding off downtown, to that building where he believed he could start his stunt course. A few people looked at him curiously as he reversed the bike into the lift, and hit the second floor. He noticed a window to his left, where he decided he would jump to the opposite building. He revved up speed, and smashed through the glass, seemingly hanging in the air, and catching the attention of the people on the ground and in their buildings, witnessing something that was changing their usually-boring days. He landed nicely on two wheels, and continued to speed forward. This time, it wasn't as big, but he landed well, and he hit yet another ramp at top speed. Perfect yet again.

From then on, it was just a series of jumps that absolutely astonished Downtown Vice City. Even the police cars had stopped their patrolling and watched in awe as Tommy again and again, flew into the air with huge airtime. Eventually, he sped to a ramp, and he came to a stop. Reversing as far as he could, he put on all the speed he had and made the hugest jump he had done so far. The crowds below cheered and whistled, but they were still yet to be surprised. Tommy, heaving the spotlight, turned it around to face a building, and then he inserted the picture of Candy. Shocked, the people below watched the light focus. There, was a picture of boobs with "SUXX" written on it.

Grinning, Tommy climbed his PCG-600 down the stairs from that rooftop, and he did a wheelie down to the cheering crowd. This should definitely keep the crowd up and waiting for the new InterGlobal Films production to arrive.

He sped back to the movie studio, where a triumphant Steve and Candy were watching the scene, and the successful lighting. Steve told Tommy that some of the box sales they made would go to him, around $7000 a week; I probably would have been only $2000 if he hadn't intervened, and Tommy, noticing this, felt very satisfied with his work that had changed InterGlobal Films. He decided to take a very hard-earned sleep. But as he was about to sleep, Kent Paul rang.

"Tommy, Paulo here, que pasa amigo?" he asked.

"What do you want, Paul. I don't want any fake label clothes." Tommy replied sleepily.

"Very funny, mate. But you know I don't touch bent gear. Nah, I was just calling to see if I get a part in one of your movies, back in England I did a lot of blue stuff, mate. I'm packing more heat than you, my son."

"Paul, thanks for the offer. I'll bear it in mind."

"Seriously, don't forget about me, after all I done for you."

Tommy replied back, but the phone was already dead. Sighing, he went over to sleep.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, Tommy drove over to Café Robina to see if Umberto had another job for him. The Haitians had definitely not been battered too much, so Tommy was expecting another job. He found Umberto talking to a couple of ladies dining and eating their early morning breakfasts.

"Hey, ladies. You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna kill me a Haitian. And then? And then I'm gonna make love like a man. You know that, chica? Something like this." Umberto told the females who, by their look, weren't very impressed by him.

"Loser!" one woman shouted at him.

"Prick," the other said.

"Hey, baby, I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole!" Umberto protested. He turned to Tommy.

"Umberto Robina, he likes the ladies, not some goat in a skirt! Tommy! Tommy, I love you, I love you! Let's go!" Umberto exclaimed to Tommy.

"Go where? Can't I get a cup of coffee first?" Tommy replied.

"No time for coffee! Besides, I just had one. We gonna take out the Haitians. Tommy, how do you take out a snake?" Umberto asked, and seeing Tommy shrug, he answered:

"You bite him in the ass! Hahaha!" Umberto laughed at his own joke.

"Whatever you say, Umberto." Tommy replied.

"Tommy, you go and get us a little Haitian car. When you get it, come back and pick up my boy Pepe, and take him out to the Haitians. Then, you go around the Haitians processing plant, and you use their solvent as an explosive. Boom! Bye bye!"

"Umberto, what about you?" Tommy asked, noticing all Umberto had to do was sit back and relax, not helping his Cubans at all.

"Uh…I'm going to stay behind, and watch over the café with Poppa. He not feeling so good, y'know?" Umberto struggled.

Tommy guessed that maybe Umberto was a sort of a wimp, afraid to take on the Haitians and getting others to do the dirty work for him, like Sonny. But Umberto still had a reasonable sort of person, so Tommy decided to pass this fact. As he headed out of the café, and walked into Little Haiti, he spotted a Voodoo stopping at the traffic light. Quickly, he pulled open the door, gave the Haitian inside a punch, and drove back off to the café. Pepe was waiting for him, equipped with a Tec-9, and he got in, saying:

"Oye, let's go find our muchachos!"

They drove over to Little Haiti. Pepe, on the way, commented on how this part of town was a dump and so on. Soon, they reached three Voodoos parked there waiting for their arrival.

"Hola, amigos," came Rico's voice.

"Bueno."

"Haitians Putas. Muerte."

"Vamos."

"Vamos indeed." Tommy called.

"Oy, the solvent is round the back, amigo," one of the Cubans said.

The Voodoos began driving slowly towards the factory.

"Follow my compadres." Pepe whispered. Then, spotting the Little Haiti Pizza Parlour, he said:

"You know, they do nice pizzas here."

They drove over to the factory, where one of the Haitians opened the gate for them. Hopefully, they would live to regret it.

As they drove in, Tommy told the others that he was going to plant the bomb, and to give him some cover. He then got out of the car, Uzi in one hand, the explosives in the other. The others Cubans popped out and opened fire with their Tec-9s. Tommy took down three Haitians in the factory, before planting the first bomb the furthest away from the door. He then quickly dropped the other two explosives.

"RUN!" Tommy yelled when he was done.

The Cubans ran, but they were stuck because of the gate being closed. Tommy noticed a stairway leading out of it, and the Cubans followed him, making it out safely. A few seconds later, there was a massive explosion that rocked them, and the Haitian drug factory was torn into ashes. Tommy and the Cubans cheered, before sprinting over to Kaufman Cabs to get into two Kaufman Cabs on the journey back to Robina Café, where Umberto was very pleased, and gave Tommy $10,000 for his efforts.

Shortly afterwards, Umberto called for his personal thanks.

"Tommy, is Umberto Robina."

"Hey, how's the café?" Tommy asked.

"Oh, wonderful. Incredible. Tommy, incredible. No wimps, Tommy, just real men and the beautiful women!" Umberto replied enthusiastically.

"Anyway, I wanted to tell you, me and Papi, to us, you Cuban. You have proved yourself, man. You got big cojones." Umberto praised him.

"Well thank you, Umberto. Nobody's said that to me since I left jail. I'll see you around." Tommy grinned, and flipped the phone shut.

He happily drove in his stolen Banshee over to the Malibu Club for some relaxation, but this time, he also got yet another phone call from Kent Paul.

"Hey there, Tommy, you're gonna love me mate. A little birdy told me that Vice City SWAT Division has a deposit box at a certain rather large banking establishment where they keep all the bribes they've taken over the years, like some kind of old boys' retirement fund. Of course, if this information should ever help you acquire any of that cash, I guess you'd feel obliged to push some of it my way?" Paul told Tommy.

"I'll bear that in mind, thanks Kent." Tommy replied.

"It's Paul. I'm from Kent, near London, you prat."

"My provincial English geography ain't what it was." Tommy replied calmly, and shut the phone. Looking up at the neon lights of the Malibu Club, he decided to purchase it, at whatever much it cost, as it could get him the support to build up the team he needed to rob the particular, bank, probably the El Banco Corrupto Grande in Little Havana. He drove over to Starfish Island to organise his cash.


	21. Preparing for the Heist

Tommy bought the Malibu Club for a hefty $120,000, and immediately called for lawyer Ken to get a chalkboard planning out his heist. Very soon after, Tommy paid a visit up to the manager's room, and found that Ken had not only got a chalkboard, but had also installed a mini-bar, which he excitedly made note to him as Tommy walked upstairs.

"Tommy! Hey, Tommy, look at this, this is great! I've got us this mini-bar installed!" Ken exclaimed, showing him the drinks and the works.

"We got a whole bar downstairs, Ken." Tommy replied, shaking his head.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Well, I got the chalkboard you asked for."

"Ah, that's the benefit of a law school education; the ability to follow instructions. Now, I need a safe man."

"Oh, all right, well, let me think…safe, safe, safe…I got it! This guy will blow you away! Aah, nah, that schmuck. He's on the inside."

"Where inside?" Tommy asked curiously.

"In a police headquarter cell awaiting transfer."

"I think he's about to get paroled." Tommy began, as he set off.

He drove his Banshee over to the VCPD HQ, and he sneaked inside, avoiding the policemen sitting at the desks. They probably would have ignored him anyway, as most of them were half-asleep or reading a paper. He discovered in the locker room a police outfit which he quickly changed into, and then he headed into the rooms to grab the key-card leading to the cells. He headed downstairs and spotted a bald man sitting in the cells. He slid the key-card, and unlocked the cell, releasing the prisoner.

"Cam Jones?" Tommy asked the man.

"Yeah, that's me…" Cam replied, looking surprised.

"I'm busting you out!"

"Whatever you say!"

Tommy handed him an Uzi, and they made their way out. Too bad they didn't notice the security camera, and the cops alerted to the escaping men, opened fire. They were pretty much ready for this situation, judged by their equipment. Instead of their usual 9mm handguns, they had their very own Uzis. Tommy dodged out and ducked behind a wall, Cam alongside him. He spun out and fired the cops making their way towards them. Then, he and Cam made a run for the Banshee, where the SWAT teams were already congregating outside.

"Lose the heat and get me back to my place!" Cam yelled.

It was a thrilling chase. Tommy had to use every skill he had ever learnt in driving to escape from the three or four chasing SWAT vans. Eventually, Tommy threw off the charging Special Operations Police and they got back to Cam's business, his Car Openers.

"I'm doing a job, and you're my safecracker." Tommy told him, and also he told him to get a quick break before going to the Malibu Club with him.

"Beats losing my ass in a cell!" Cam replied, and headed inside for a quick shower before going with Tommy back to the Malibu Club.

They drove back to the club, and they set upon looking for a shooter. Unfortunately, Ken was still being an annoyance.

"We need a stick-up man. You know once?" Tommy asked Ken as they headed upstairs.

"Hey, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, this stuff keeps you sharp, man. Wooooo! I could be your stick-up man! Stick 'em up! Stick 'em up!" Ken exclaimed, pretending to point a gun after being amped from probably some coke or drinks.

"You ain't a stick-up man, you're an idiot. Now get yourself a drink and shut up." Tommy replied, snorting.

"Hey, get outta my way! Yeah, yeah, yeah- owowow!"

"Relax." Cam piped up.

"Cam, what do you think?" Tommy asked.

"Well, the best shooter in town is a guy named Cassidy."

"Is that so?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah. A military guy or he thinks he is. I doubt he was ever in the army, but he certainly knows how to get a hold of guns. He'll be down at the shooting range."

Tommy thanked him, and he drove over to see what the man had to offer. He spotted a redneck-looking man standing at the Rifle Range, looking like some rural shooter.

"You Phil Cassidy?" Tommy asked the man.

"Why?" Phil replied.

"I'm looking for a man who can handle a gun. From this setup, I'm not too convinced."

"Son, I could shoot a fly off your head at 80 feet."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I learnt in the army."

"Fly shooting real popular in the army? Glad I don't pay tax."

"You trying to be funny, boy? Hahaha! Let's shoot."

Phil passed Tommy a box of .45 ammo and explained the rules for the three rounds. A shoot 'em up: three points for hitting the dummy the furthest away, two points for the next one, and one point for the closest. Tommy watched Phil shoot his way through, and knew he was a pretty handy shooter, with a total score of 60. Tommy readied himself, and the gun clerk handed him some earmuffs and a pistol.

"Live ammunition. Aim, three, two one, FIRE!" the clerk yelled.

Tommy flicked the first clip of the .45 and aimed at the furthest target. Five shots later, it had disintegrated. A good start. Tommy continued firing, taking a few seconds to reload. By the time he had used up the ammo for the .45, inside his allowed two minutes, he had scored 33. Phil was pretty impressed. The next round was even easier. Each target was one point. Tommy's quick reactions and trigger finger gave him a huge total, and took him past Phil's total. Still eager, Tommy only scored 20 on the last one, a difficult shooting, but he had still impressed Phil.

"So you wanna do me a favour, and help me put together a job?" Tommy asked when they finished.

"Son, after shooting like that, if you asked me to be your wife, I'd say yes." Phil joked, and Tommy, grinning, drove him back to the Malibu. Two of his team had come together. Now all he needed was a good driver.

"Things are starting to come together nicely here." Tommy said as they headed back upstairs.

"What's the plan, Tommy? Que pasa, amigo?" Ken asked.

"The plan is you keep doing that like a moron. Anyhow, we need a driver."

"Tommy, I'll do it. I can drive." Ken piped up.

"You want Hilary, mister. Not some smart-talking law school chump. Hilary's the real deal. You ain't never seen anyone drive so fast. I'll give him a call here." Phil told Tommy. He then phoned Hilary.

"Hey Hil, it's Phil. How's it going? No. Don't talk. We'll reminisce later. You want me to do a favour? I got me a guy from up north. No, no, I don't think he was in the service, but he wants a driver. For a bit of action…Okay, I understand." Phil snapped the phone shut.

"What'd he say?" Tommy asked.

"Well, he'll do it, no problem. Well, there might be a little problem see, he has abandonment issues. Seems he won't work for anyone who can't beat him. Something to do with his momma. Anyway, he wants to race you first, said he'd meet you outside…"

Tommy walked outside, and waited for Hilary to come. Eventually, he pulled up in a Sabre Turbo: a sturdy and quick car good for street racing. Tommy walked towards him.

"You Tommy?" Hilary asked, and then deliberately corrected himself:

"Of course you're Tommy, I mean, why else would anyone want to speak to me? Okay. Consider it this way; I'll drive for you IF, and only IF, you can drive properly. Leave me alone-and I'll never forgive you." Hilary warned Tommy.

Tommy shrugged, and he then grabbed a map of Vice City, drawing out a quick race from the Malibu, over to Ocean Beach, and back. Hilary didn't say anything, so Tommy decided to use a Sentinel for this race, to prove that he could drive well.

They lined up for the race. Cam started them off, and immediately, Hilary shot out of the blocks. His Sabre Turbo was a lot faster than the Sentinel, and handled better too, but Tommy wasn't going to let that get to bother him. However, as they turned right past the road that the Ocean View was on, they roared past a parked police car. Tommy could hear the policeman radio, saying something about all officers to check out Hilary and his illegal street race. He was falling further behind as well, so he had to use his driving skills nicely to win from here. There was no doubt that Hilary made a great driver for the job. However, he wasn't going to let him win here.

Tommy sped as they raced past the Pole Position strip club. He gained on the heavier Sabre Turbo with two sharp turns, and they were neck to neck as they went past the Marina. He had studied the race carefully. There was a sharp turn that he could capitalise on the Sabre Turbo's bulkiness, but for now, he had to stay on Hilary's tail. They went at it turn by turn, evading police cars trying to stop one or the other. It was breathtaking racing, a perfect scene for an action movie. Finally, as they sped past Well Stacked Pizza, Tommy took his chance. He slid hard, hoping to get inside Hilary. Perfect. He cruised past Hilary who was still trying to make a hard turn back, and kept that momentum to reach the finish line. Hilary, racing back, accepted defeat, and agreed to do the job. They headed back upstairs to sort out the final bits of their heist. Tommy was the most satisfied. He was ready to rob the bank.


	22. Taking Out The Cash

Tommy sat all of his heist team, and gave him a talk.

"As you can see, gentleman, this is going to be the easiest buck we ever made." Tommy addressed them.

"Tommy, seriously, you gotta consider going into law." Ken said, shaking his head.

"What the hell are you smoking, man? This ain't no simple plan! Well, who needs a simple plan anyway? Take communism, now that was a simple plan. Didn't do Russia any favours, huh?" Phil piped up.

"Calm down, all right? With a team like this, it's going to be no problem. We got Cam on safe. Phil? You and me will handle security, and Hilary will drive the getaway car." Tommy said.

"Uh, hehe, aren't you forgetting somebody? Somebody who helped you to no end in this town? Somebody who…" Ken tried to say.

"Ken…Ken, that's right. Ken here, he washes the money for us and he keeps the drinks on ice."

"I don't understand what I am supposed to be doing here." Hilary grumbled.

"Look, it's easy. Haven't you seen a movie? We walk into a bank; we wave the gun around, and leave very rich men." Tommy grinned, and he walked downstairs, followed by his team.

Tommy organised some bank-robbing outfits, and he then jacked a taxi.

"I'll drive." Tommy told Hilary.

"Great. A passenger. Wait till I tell the group about this." Hilary sulked.

Tommy got in, followed by his team.

"Tommy. Hilary's taking up too much room!" Cam whined.

"I am not!" Hilary replied indignantly.

"Are too!"

"Hey, shut up you two or you can get out and walk." Tommy turned to the back and said.

"Yeah-HILARY." Cam mocked the driver.

As they drove through Starfish Island, it seemed as if Phil was pretty eager to get the heist started. He was waving his M4 around, and nearly poked Tommy's eyes out once.

"For god's sake, Phil, stop waving that thing around!" Tommy yelled.

Phil stopped, and they reached their target without any more disruptions.

"Keep driving around the block, OK?" Tommy told Hilary.

"Okay, Tommy, okay." Hilary replied, and he started to drive after Tommy had taken their bank outfits from the trunk.

They sneaked to the back of the bank, and quickly changed, stuffing them to get them later. When they came out, Tommy was packing a .357, Cam equipped with an MP5, and Phil with his favourite weapon, an M4.

They charged into the bank.

"THIS IS A RAID!" Tommy yelled, pointing the .357 at the customers.

"NOBODY MOVE!" Phil yelled, aiming carefully at one side of the place with Cam on the other.

"EVERYBODY UP AGAINST THAT WALL!" Tommy bellowed, and the customers slowly obeyed.

"Phil, hold down the fort." Tommy told the gun runner.

"Wilco roger that!" Phil replied.

"Come on, Cam, the vault's upstairs." Tommy told Cam.

They headed upwards, and Tommy wasn't surprised to see guards waiting to ambush them. Tommy fired on them quickly, and with two accurate shots at the guards, dropped them, and picked up their MP5s. They headed up to the vaults, peeking at the security room to see Phil. When they headed up to the vaults, Tommy was disappointed.

"Damn! It's a Flange 9000. This could take hours to crack…or five minutes if you could find the manager." Cam told Tommy.

"I'll go find where he's holed up." Tommy said.

On the way, he asked Phil how it was going, and received a positive answer.

Tommy sneaked over to where he guessed the manager's office was, and after clearing out the guard there, he told the manager:

"You-you're coming with me!"

"Ok! Ok! Just don't shoot!" the manager begged.

As they headed back to the vaults, Tommy could hear Phil yell:

"I SAID NOBODY MOVES!"

Tommy quickly ushered the manager over to the vaults. He inspected it, and exclaimed triumphantly to Cam and Tommy.

"It's on a time lock. You might as well give up now!" the manager yelled.

"Hell, I can bypass the time lock. Then we need your key code and we're good!" Cam smirked.

"Stay here. You try anything and you're dead. I'm gonna check on Phil. I'll be right back." Tommy threatened the manager, pointing at him with his Python.

However, he was greeted by more bad news.

"I told you not to touch that alarm!" Phil screamed at someone, and there were gunshots, and screams.

"The SWAT team will be here any minute! I could do with some help here, Tommy!" Phil reported.

Tommy sighed, and he headed downstairs, finding a dead woman next to the alarm. He sprinted to a desk, and used that for cover. He then pulled out his MP5, and waited. Soon, there were voices coming from the roof.

"Vice City SWAT! You are completely surrounded!" a voice rang over the bank.

"Surrounded? Hahahahaaaaaaaa!" Phil laughed.

"They're crapping themselves, corrupt bastards!" Phi sniggered.

"Tommy! The vault's open!" Cam yelled, showing two cases filled with green.

"Ok, we got the SWAT retirement fund. Let's get out of here!" Tommy yelled.

"Ok, you asked for it! You've had your last chance!" the voice angrily yelled.

"They're storming the place! Take cover!" Phil yelled.

Tommy ducked behind his desk, expecting for the SWAT to charge through the doors. However, nothing happened. Then, there was a crash, and the panels of the roof opened up, and several SWAT men dropped down. Tommy and Phil fired at them with their weapons, taking half of them down before they hit the ground. They were probably Vice City's best marksmen, and they mowed down the SWAT as they came down. The last SWAT was blown to kingdom come by a .357 bullet.

"That's the last of them. GO, GO, GO!" Phil yelled.

The three men sprinted for the exits, and quickly ducked behind some trees, as SWAT men were congregating.

"Shit! Where's Hilary?" Phil exclaimed.

As if on cue, Hilary appeared, and the taxi slid to a stop. He got out, firing an Uzi.

"Hey guys! Get in! I got you covered!" Hilary shouted.

As Tommy and the team got in, he continued firing, eventually getting hit by a stun round from one of the policemen at the scene. Tommy, wasting SWAT men left and right, quickly grabbed him and dragged him into the taxi. Then, the robbery car sped off into the distance, past the SWAT vans that weren't expecting a chase, and quickly getting over to Cam's place, which was their designated hideout.

As they headed inside, Phil yelled happily:

"We made it! We're rich! RICH!"

"Tommy, would you like a massage?" Mercedes asked, appearing and moving over to Tommy.

"Well, hi there, Mercedes! Yeah, I'm a little tense…" Tommy nervously replied.

"What'd I tell you Tommy? What'd I tell you? Bent SWAT better watch out when Kent Paul is in town." Paul happily said.

Tommy, remembering his promise, grabbed some cash from the cases and handed it to Paul.

"Come on, gimme a bigger slice, mate, c'mon. I gotta get some new threads." Kent grinned.

Tommy didn't care, and he passed more money over to Paul. After a couple of hours of drinking, laughing, and Hilary waking up, Tommy felt very satisfied. He had a whole extra chunk of money, about $50K, and also, Phil had told him to drop by his cabin in Little Haiti in a while.

Tommy drove back to Starfish Island to get a quick nap, before going off to do something. But as he did so, his phone rang.

"Get to the payphone in Little Havana," the mysterious man said.

Shrugging, Tommy deposited his share of the money, and then drove over to see what job the man had for him now. He answered the phone when it rang.

"There is a valuable exchange taking place on the roof of the Cherry Popper Ice Cream Company. Kill everyone involved, steal the merchandise and take it to the helipad at the airport. There is a gate to your left that leads to the back of the factory," the man told him.

Tommy looked around, and was surprised to see the gates of his owned factory opened. However, he couldn't dwell on that, as a special agent, spotting an intruder, began firing at him. Tommy ducked behind a wall, and blew a hole in the man's head with his Python. He grabbed his MP5 ammo, and also found an M4 lying on the ground, Gripping that, he headed on, expecting more men.

He was right. There were a lot of men, probably around twenty of them, all carrying MP5s. Tommy cursed, and he ducked behind the boxes of drugs. He popped them one by one until his M4 clip was empty, and then he worked on with his sub-machine gun. Once nearly everyone who could see him was wasted, he grabbed all the MP5 ammo in the area, and also spotted a SPAS-12 automatic shotgun waiting on the stairs. He grabbed that, and moved on. He headed upwards, to the big ice cream scoop at the roof of the factory. He looked around, and then targeted a man, shooting him in the head.

He moved up slowly, taking out another two agents ducking behind the ice-cream scoop. Finally, he reached the top, where the drug deal was going on, and two men stood there with MP5s and a briefcase of drugs and cash. Tommy killed them both before they could react, grabbed the cases, and got into the nearby helicopter, quickly flying over to Escobar International Airport, where he gave the drugs and kept the case of money, which turned to be a nice $16,000. He decided to rest for a while, before heading over to see Phil.

**End note: **Yes, I know that Hilary dies, or at least is supposed to. But I don't reckon that he deserves to die, and such, so I decided to make it that he simply got hit by a stun bullet (however unlikely that is). Please R&R, thanks for the reviews!


	23. Boomshine Saigon

Tommy drove over to Phil's cabin in Little Haiti. When he got there, he found a messily-scrawled "PHIL'S PLACE' at the front. He checked around, seeing a red barn with a Patriot Hummer in it, and a small cabin. Tommy headed towards it, and checked inside, but found no Phil.

"Phil?" Tommy called, searching on the sides. He was nearly knocked over by the redneck arms-dealer charging away from the cabin.

"RUN!" Phil yelled.

Tommy, confused, but he still obliged, and they dived just in time to hear a massive explosion.

"Hooooweeeeeee! Never get a naked flame too close to one of Phil Cassidy's boomshine stills!" Phil grinned, picking himself up.

"Shit Phil, you drink that stuff?" Tommy asked, incredulously.

"Hell, you don't have to drink it; just a good whiff will set you off. Hoowee!"

"Listen Phil, you said you could fix me up with some firepower…" Tommy began.

"Sure thing. There's some Mexican gun-runner been doing me for business of late. He does his weekly run about now. Ram his hardware off the back of his trucks before he goes to ground. And you'd be doing me a favour while you're at it. Then finish him off."

Tommy shrugged, and Phil gave him a few satchel charges, telling him to blow up four white Waltons driving through town. He could use his Patriot if he wanted. Tommy jumped into the army vehicle, and drove off, looking for his first target. He soon found a Walton driving around, with a man riding shotgun out back with an Uzi. Tommy sped the Patriot up towards it, and deliberately rammed it sideways, sending the boxes of weapons off, and sending the first one to a watery doom. Tommy dug open the boxes, and found a .357 and ammo for it. Nice. Very nice indeed. He drove on, looking for another Walton to blow up.

He found another one five minutes later, driving towards the downtown AmmuNation. Tommy rammed it into a wall, and as the boxes of ammo toppled down, he quickly attached a satchel onto it, before driving away from the chasing truck and pressing the detonator. The truck blew in a glorious wave of orange, and Tommy drove back to get the boxes of ammo, this time, a SPAS-12 shotgun.

He drove back north, after finding no more trucks lurking around the place. He soon discovered another one, but as he sped towards it, several men in Faggio mopeds sped towards him, their Uzis blazing. Tommy cursed under his breath, and he rammed straight through them. Phil's Patriot had obviously done this stuff before. He then pulled next to the Walton, and opening the window, aimed carefully and sent a bullet into the driver's chest. The Walton slid out of control, and the man riding shotgun fell out, eventually getting run over by Tommy. This time, he found a Mac-10 Uzi. One more truck to go. When he had carefully knocked out the hardware and destroyed the trucks, he happily retrieved the loot, and along with a powerful M60 machine-gun, he also found $1000. Definitely not a bad thing to do _and _it was doing Phil favours as well. He went back to the mansion to store the cash and the M60 downstairs in his secret weapons stash if he needed a weapon.

Afterwards, Phil called again and he seemed to be playing around with some of his barrels of boomshine. Tommy shrugged, and he decided to pay Phil a visit to see what he was up to. As he drove to Little Haiti, he wondered about how he had overtaken this city so quickly. It seemed, and probably was only a month ago when he arrived in Vice City, and then was left with nothing but the money in his pocket, and that was none, and the clothes on his back. Over this time, he had first gained a reputation as a feared assassin as he was in Liberty City, and then killed the city's main drug baron, taking over.

What had he done to get to all this? It was a good thing, but he still wished for a regular life. He had only joined the mob in the early 70s because of the fact that he had no money, nothing to do, and that was the sole reason he had gone into that kind of life. And even from there, he had just wanted to get some money and then back out. What had made him stay, and waste fifteen years of his life in the rotting atmosphere of prison?

While he dwelled on this, he didn't notice several Haitians in front of him. When he did, he nearly ran over all of them, only to end up squashing one. Usually, apart from that group of Haitians, nobody would attack. But the problem was, they recognised him, and very soon, Tommy and his car were swarmed by about fifteen Haitians. He sped out of the way, running over a couple in the process. The others fired at the fleeing Patriot with their .45s, but they didn't hit anything.

Slightly out of breath, Tommy drove to Phil, and spotted him looking rather drunk from the boomshine fumes, that made him feel bad as well. Phil was sticking something to an explosive.

"Hey Phil, how's it going?" Tommy asked.

"Heeeeeyyy, Tommy! Howyyaaadoin'? Ish bin too long…" Phil drowsily replied.

"I swear you should lay off that boomshine, man, smells like paint stripper. Making my eyes burn…" Tommy protested.

"Shh shhh yourshelf Tommy. And come over here because there's someshin I wanna show you…someshin."

"Woof! God! Should I be able to smell that from way over here? I'm felling woozy." Tommy muttered.

"Doncha worry about the shmell, you just wash thish. Schitty-cheap-batterish or something. There'sh shum more on the bench. TA-DAA!" Phil exclaimed proudly, but that was cut off by a huge explosion, and when the smoke cleared, he was clutching what was left of his left arm.

"AW DAMN! Hahaha!" Phil laughed, as Tommy pulled him into the Patriot.

Tommy, despite the fumes that had got him in rather bad condition, could still somewhat see the roads, and decided to get Phil to the hospital Unfortunately for him, the Haitians noticed him again, and they fired at him as the Patriot drove out.

"Spooney Wooney Woo Woo!" Phil exclaimed happily from the back.

Tommy tried to concentrate, but handling proved to be impossible. He swerved one way, and then another, almost slamming into a wall.

"47, we got a drunk driver!"

Tommy somehow put himself together again, but was still kind of put off-track by Phil's comments:

"Is it just me, or are the roads made of jelly?"

"Watch out, Charlie in the tree line!"

Eventually, Tommy reached the hospital, but as they arrived, Phil protested:

"No, not the hospital, man! Too many cops and Viet Cong! There's an ex-army surgeon who owes me a few favours and a lawn-mower. He's got his place in Little Havana-ooo, look, a giant fish."

Luckily, the surgeon's place wasn't too far away, and Phil seemed to be recovering from his drunkenness, and Tommy went with him to get some of his own medicine to use. He happily walked out of the place, and borrowed Phil's Patriot, driving back to his garage, where Phil said he would pick up his army Hummer later. Soon afterwards, Phil called:

"Tommy, I want to thank you for helping me out back there, son. Damn Charlie, he'll always ambush you somewhere or the other. Anyway, the wound is healing well and it means I'll be no longer defrauding the government with my disability check."

Tommy grinned, and snapped the phone shut. Things were getting along very well. He was earning bucketloads of money, could get his firepower anywhere, along with the heavy stuff from Phil. Now, all he needed was one more business: perhaps, a printing company, like the Printworks he saw in Little Havana a couple of days ago. He headed over there after filling a case of green.


	24. Counterfeit Money

Tommy drove over to the Printworks, and after handing over the money, the ownership rights to the printing company, which was a hefty $70,000, he headed inside, and was blissfully reminded of his childhood, where he watched and sometimes helped his father on the old works. He went over to talk to the only person in the place, an old man by the name of Earnest Kelly.

"Mr. Vercetti? Hey. You bought the old print works?" Earnest asked.

"Yeah, my old man used to work on these. I used to spend the evenings with him, cleaning the rollers...I was going to follow him in his trade, but I lived a different life…" Tommy replied sadly.

"You plan on selling the old machinery, breaking it down?"

"I'm thinking we might print something-a newspaper, a magazine…"

"Oh, crap, sonny, low-grade crap. I've always fancied printing money. It ain't too hard. You know, I've been doing it on a small scale for years." Earnest admitted.

"Really?" Tommy asked.

"Sure. But we'd need some good quality plates. Of course! There's a counterfeiting syndicate already operating in Florida."

"A syndicate?"

"Yeah. Just rumours I heard."

"I know a man who's good with rumours…" Tommy said, thinking of Paul. He hailed a Kaufman Cab, and headed over to see the man, at the Malibu Club as usual. While he was doing that, he grabbed an MP5 on the way.

He found Kent Paul staring at some women.

"Look at the arse on that! All right girl, it's your loss mate init! All right me ol'china, how's it hanging?" he exclaimed.

"What do you know about counterfeiting?" Tommy asked.

"Oh I'm fine Paul, how about you?" Paul feigned.

"Come here!"

"All right! All right! All right! You're obviously a busy man. All I know about dodgy readies is the Triads supply the plates. They've got a shipping company down the docks; the boss man would know when the plates are coming in next!"

"Thanks...Paul!" Tommy corrected himself in mid-sentence.

"What's the matter with you, you maniac? Give me another drink, lively!"

Tommy drove over to the ship, the Chartered Libertines. He peeked about, and had a look at the area carefully. There were several security guards standing around, a couple on boxes with m4s, the rest all holding formidable MP5 sub-machine guns like his. This was going to be no easy task. He decided to pick off the men on the boxes first, with the M4s. He aimed carefully, and capped the ones he could see with the MP5.

The guards were alerted by the shots, but they were rather sluggish, having guarded nearly all day, and they continued their rounds. Tommy sneaked onto the ship, and punched one in the back of the head. Unluckily for him, the alarm rang off, and all the security guards began charging and firing at him. Tommy picked off anyone coming his way, and charged through, looking wildly for the shipping officer. But he didn't notice a man with an M4 hiding behind a box, and he fired a bullet in his shoulder. Tommy, wincing in pain, dived out of the way of a couple more bullets and shot the man in the head. Picking up his M4, he continued up, eventually finding a foreign man standing in a room. He approached him.

"Who are you? Ooof! Aieeee!" the man screamed as Tommy began punching him and holding him in a headlock.

"Not the face! Not the face! Ok, ok, I'll talk!"

The man told him that the courier with the plates would be arriving this afternoon. After he was finished, Tommy kicked him unconscious, and charged back downstairs, back for his car.

He killed and killed and killed like a machine on the way back, like an unstoppable force. Eventually, he reached his car, dodged the chasing cars, and he reached back rather flustered, taking a quick nap at the mansion before going back to the Printworks in the afternoon. When he did, he also got Lance to go with him.

"All right, the courier's moving the plates from the docks today. I'm gonna go intercept them, grab the plates, lose any heat, and make my way back here. Now. Depending how well this goes, we may have five minutes to print the money before the counterfeit syndicate finds us, or we may have all year. Either way, I want green rolling off the presses five minutes after I get back. Got it?" Tommy addressed Lance and Earnest.

"Don't you worry, Tommy. We'll be ready." Earnest calmly replied.

"Me and the boys will be around the neighbourhood case you need any heat taken care of." Lance piped up.

"All right, everybody cool? All right, I'll catch you later."

Tommy drove over to the Hyman Condo, and flew his own Maverick helicopter over to where the plates were arriving from, that horror place where his busted drug deal had taken place just a month or so ago. He flew, and hovered down for a closer look. There were about twenty female bodyguards, sprinkled around the place with shotguns, sniper rifles, and Uzis. Tommy took a deep breath, and flew onto one of the nearby rooftops.

He jumped out, pulling out his MP5 and took down the snipers on the roof. Then, he looked down, and carefully dodging the spray of bullets by ducking back, he fired and fired until all the bodyguards were dead. Then, he pulled out the M4 he had from the last mission, and he scoped to the helicopter, which was now flying over, not seeing the massacre yet. Tommy could see the courier with the plates. He aimed at the window of the chopper, shooting her and the pilot with a burst of rounds, and quickly as he could, got in the chopper, grabbed the plates off the dead courier, and flew back to the Printworks.

Luckily, the second option was what they had. No syndicate officials ever found them, and soon, they had money rolling straight off the presses. However, as Tommy left, he told Earnest to use some of the new-found funds to print some newspapers and magazines, good ones too, to disguise the purpose of the Printworks.

However, afterwards, trouble came yet again. Ken phoned Tommy, rather upset and scared. It seemed as if Sonny had called Ken, and threatened to kill him and his family if Tommy wasn't going to pay his money soon. It looked like Sonny would might be coming over to sort everything out personally.

Tommy was confirmed that twenty minutes later, when Earnest called. He sniffed as Tommy answered the call.

"Hello? Tommy, Tommy, we got a situation down here at the Printworks. Some mess or the other. Things are messed up, I gotta go." Earnest sighed, slamming the phone down.

Tommy grumbled, and sped his car as quickly as possible towards the Printworks. His Cheetah flew at one hundred miles per hour, when he finally arrived.

"Ok, what's the emergency?" Tommy began, when he was shocked to see Earnest Kelly lying on the ground, some workers helping him up.

"Tommy…some mob thugs…said they'd come to take their cut…said it was a Mr. Forello's money…I feel like crap…" Earnest moaned.

"Forelli? SONNY Forelli!" Tommy exclaimed furiously.

"Yeah, that's the guy…I think…they were very insistent…"

"I'm not angry with you. Get him to the hospital." Tommy told the workers. They nodded, and began carrying him over to the phone, where they called the ambulance.

"Tommy…rip that guy a new asshole for me…" Earnest called.

"I'm gonna rip him two!" Tommy screamed.

Not only Sonny had been pushing his fat nose in his own business, he was taking money, and injuring old people too. Tommy bet that the men would now be heading over to another one of his businesses. He sped over to the Boatyard, and Dwayne told him that the Mafia guys had taxed the boatyard, but he had heard one of them say they were heading to the Car Showroom. Tommy shook his head. Always giving away too much information, those Forelli idiots. Tommy raced over there, and spotted two men wearing Hawaiian tee-shirts, sticking up the front office and forcing them to empty a briefcase of money. They were well-armed, with a shotgun and an M4.

"Hold it right there." Tommy glared at the men.

"You know the rules, Mr. Vercetti," one of the men sneered.

"I'll murder you, Vercetti," the other glared.

"That's when you're wrong." Tommy smirked.

They began to raise their guns, but Tommy was too quick, blowing a hole in both of their heads. Grabbing their weapons, he asked the men at the showroom, and they said they overheard the men calling for back-up to head to the Ice-Cream factory.

Tommy sped towards the Cherry Popper factory, but he only saw two men on a Sanchez dirt bike speeding away. He chased right after them, ramming them off their bikes and running them both over. He grabbed their money and returned it back to the factory, where one of the drivers told him that there were more Mafia heading over to Kaufman Cabs. He sped over there, and waited for them to come, before blowing both of their faces off with a double-barrelled shotgun that he had hidden in Kaufman Cabs just in case things got messy. No more Mafia thugs came, and he even had his boys check all the properties he had in Vice City.

Tommy sighed, and drove back to the mansion to drop off his weapons. He was ready for the final battle. Now all he needed to wait for was his old boss.


	25. The Final Battle And a Flurry of Phone C...

Tommy prepared himself for the final battle, or whatever would come over the next few days. He stocked up all the weapons he had, and piled them in a secret closet he installed in his office. And he waited.

Tommy knew it was time for things to get wrapped up, when he was driving over to the Cherry Popper Factory, when he received a call from Lance.

"Tommy, we got big problems. Come here right away." Lance told him briskly, and shut the phone.

Tommy grabbed the M4 from his trunk, and slipped on a suit of body armour behind his Soiree outfit. Then, he drove back to Vercetti Estate.

He met a rather-worried looking Ken, and Lance sitting calmly.

"What's going on?" Tommy asked, waiting for the obvious truth to come.

"Tommy! Oh good. Listen, listen. Uh, listen." Ken began, stumbling over his words. He continued uneasily:

"I like fish. I love fish. I love them as pets in bowls, or as food on a plate, but as much as I love em, I don't want to sleep with them. Okay, but right now your Italian brothers are coming from up there to fit me with some cement shoes, and I..."

Tommy interrupted his mumble-jumble and asked Lance.

"It's your friends up north Tommy. They ain't too happy you capped their man. They're coming down to see the business today." Lance explained calmly.

"They took longer than I thought... Guys, we gotta make this final we gotta leave no doubt that this is my operation. Mine! Ken, you get the first run of counterfeit cash and put three million in briefcases. Lance, you get the guys together." Tommy ordered.

Ken and Lance both scrambled to their jobs, and Lance soon had his gang waiting for him. Ken went over to the Printworks in his white Admiral to grab the three million dollars worth of counterfeit money. Tommy gathered up all his weapons, and he shoved all the money he had in his safe. All he could do for now, was waiting.

The boys had a silent lunch, Tommy ordering about twenty pizzas. They sat at the bar and around the mansion, eating silently. It didn't even seem as if they tasted it. Tommy looked around at his men. Never had he seen them look so tense. He just had to hope this business affair with Sonny would go with no trouble. But Tommy knew it would.

Finally, with the sun setting down in Vice City, Tommy spotted three limousines pull up outside the mansion. He ordered his men to take their places on the rooftops, and all around the places. Then, he got Ken to grab the three briefcases of fake cash, as Sonny and his two henchmen got out, heading up the stairs towards the mansion. Tommy, Lance by one side and Ken by the other, walked over to meet his old boss, who he hadn't seen for fifteen years, before he was given that mission.

**Flashback:**

"_Okay, Tommy. I want you to kill this Leone Mafia asshole. He lives in an apartment in the Red Light District, and he is going to catch a flight soon." Sonny told the young Tommy Vercetti, brandishing a photo._

"_Why is he in Portland? Wouldn't he choose a place beforehand in Shoreside Vale?" Tommy asked._

"_Don't worry about that-you're going to kill him anyway. Now get going." Sonny told Tommy firmly._

_Tommy, grumbling and slightly suspicious, un-holstered a .45 pistol and a shotgun. He also had an RPK-47 sub-machinegun for any rapid-fire work. A lot of firepower, but this was what he had got accustomed to during the few months he had worked, and gained respect in the Forelli Mafia. He got in his Banshee, the latest 1971 model, and he drove off, following directions carefully._

_He arrived at the apartment, and concealing his weapons, he slipped a silencer on his .45 just in case, and he crept upstairs. He could hear voices. Italian, Mafia-like voices. They were getting closer, and coming downstairs very quickly._

"_We gotta get out of here. That bastard is going to arrive any minute," he heard a voice say._

_Shit. How did they know he was here? Sighing, Tommy pulled out his shotgun, and cocked it. He crept out of the building, and waited for the men to come out. When they did, Tommy had a close look at them. They were well-equipped, with shotguns. Tommy pulled out his RPK-47, and opened fire._

_Three of them were swept down by his quick fire, and he rolled out of the way as the remaining eight blasted shotgun shells at him. He pulled out his .45, and he fired a couple of accurate shots into one man's skull, and then he swivelled and made a run for the apartment. Close-quarters fighting would be his best chance, with the numerous numbers making easy picking for his shotgun. He slipped the pistol into his pocket, wielded the shotgun, and waited. Two of them met the powerful weapon with a blast in the face. He pulled out his RPK-47 and wiped out the rest of them._

_However, his trouble was continued when he heard the wail of police sirens outside. He headed upstairs, but SWAT members were descending down from the ropes of a police helicopter. Not wanting to cause any more trouble, Tommy had to meekly drop his weapons and raise his hands in the air. The SWAT members handcuffed him, and walked him downstairs, where they drove him over to a temporary holding cell._

Tommy jerked himself back into reality, and walked down to meet Sonny.

"Tommy!" Sonny happily greeted, making a pose as it he was going to hug him. When Tommy refused silently, he asked sarcastically:

"What? No big hugs for your old buddy?"

"I've had fifteen years out of the loop. I'm a bit rusty on family etiquette." Tommy replied, trying to push the anger out of his voice, but failing.

"Always angry, eh Tommy. Didn't I say your temper would get you into trouble, huh?" Sony piped up, noticing the sharpness of Tommy's words.

"There's three mil in the cases…"

"How many was it? Ten? No, eleven men. That's how you get to be called the Harwood Butcher! Heh-heh-heh!" Sonny laughed to himself, out loud.

"You sent me to kill one man, ONE MAN. They knew I was coming Sonny…" Tommy furiously replied.

"Tommy, Tommy, watch your tone. Anyone would think you blame me for that unfortunate set of circumstances."

"Just take the money…get the damn cash."

"You know, Tommy? I did what I could for you; I pulled strings, called in favours. I was your friend, Tommy. I hoped you'd see sense; see what's good for business. I trusted you, Tommy, and you disappointed me." Sonny calmly told Tommy.

Tommy stared, hiding his surprise. Somebody had ratted on him and told Sonny about the counterfeit cash.

"But at least someone in your chicken shit organization knows how to do business. Isn't that right Lance?" Sonny asked Tommy's partner-in-crime.

"I'm sorry Tommy. This is Vice City. This is business." Lance said to Tommy.

"You sold us out…" Tommy said in barely a whisper, trying to keep calm.

"No. I sold YOU out, Tommy, I sold YOU out. The real cash is upstairs in the safe." Lance told Sonny.

"Tommy, what was the big plan? You think I'd just take the fake cash? Save face and run away with my tail between my legs?" Sonny mocked.

Tommy, calmly as he could, got close and personal with Sonny, glaring at him.

"No. I just wanted to piss you off before I kill you." Tommy retorted. He stormed back to his office, going to grab his weapons.

_Shit_. _Where was the key to his weapons locker?_ _Lance_, Tommy thought. That son of a bitch! That backstabbing mother! Before Tommy could explode, he calmed himself as best as possible, and noticed an M4 and a Colt Python lying on the table. He grabbed the two weapons and waited for somebody to come. Sonny and his men had gone over to grab weapons and then come to steal their cash. Tommy primed the Python, and waited. When the first man stormed through the mansion door, Tec-9 blazing, Tommy pegged him with a powerful headshot. Three more men came running in, two from the main door, and one from the side passage. They were cut off by the .357 that Tommy wielded so accurately and with so much deadliness. He chewed right through the Mafia men. His Vercetti men, perched on the sides, were also helping, not much, but taking out a couple of thugs here and there.

After about three waves of Mafia men had been held off by Tommy's Python, it was empty, and that was the point when he spotted that familiar white suit, this time with a formidable Ruger assault rifle.

"No one to cover your ass now, eh Tommy?" Lance spat.

"You're going down, you backstabbing prick!" Tommy yelled, pointing his Colt Python at Lance.

"Oh, you think so?" Lance shouted back, and made a run to the rooftops.

Taking out the two Mafia men that had come with Lance, he yelled for his men to cover the place while he went to the rooftop. He didn't have much ammo for the Colt Python, and he headed towards the roof, yelling at Lance:

"Come here, you double-crossing piece of shit!"

"You're history, Tommy, history!" Lance screamed, firing his Ruger as he ran.

Tommy had to dive out of the way of shooting Mafia men with pistols. They had killed his own guys, and taken their weapons in the process. Tommy wasted all of them, except from Lance, where he got a couple of clean shots at, but was absorbed by Lance's bullet-proof vest, before his Python went empty. Damn it.

Tommy pegged his Python at a barrel, blowing it up, and then, he made a run for the corner, where he had hidden a weapon that not even Lance knew about. It was a katana. He picked up the long, elegant blade of the Japanese samurai sword, and diving out of the way, waiting for Lance to run out of ammo for his clip, or to begin reloading. Then, like a samurai, he made a run for Lance, jumping in the air, landing on top of Lance, and plunging the deadly blade into his chest. Lance screamed in pain, and his grip on the Ruger loosened. Tommy issued punch after punch, and then decapitated Lance's head with a clean cut. Grabbing his Ruger, he ran downstairs to kill the Mafia guys.

All his men were dead, and the Mafia thugs, about five of them, and more running upstairs, they were cramming money.

"Enjoying yourselves!" Tommy asked, as he cleared them with his Ruger. He stuffed the notes back in the safe, and waited for more Mafia men. His Ruger went empty, and he switched back to his trusty M4.

He cut down thug after thug, and he had about two clips remaining in his M4, and a whole patch of death, when Sonny finally made his appearance.

"You took fifteen years from me, Sonny, and now I'm going to make you pay!" Tommy yelled, aiming his M4 at Sonny.

Sonny, with two of his elite henchmen alongside him, and with a Ruger, looked amused.

"You still don't get it, do you? I OWN you Tommy. Those fifteen years were mine to spend!" Sonny calmly replied. He gazed around the mansion, and ordered his men.

"Get him boys, he never understood a thing!"

Tommy ducked behind his office table, and took them down one by one. But he was running out of ammunition fast, and the M4 finally clicked as it went empty.

That was it. Nothing to kill Sonny with, apart from a Tec-9, which he would have to get by hand first. But then, he spotted a cardboard box underneath the desk that he had remembered seeing since working for Diaz. He peeled it open as quickly as possible, and found a rocket launcher. Good old Diaz. That man always had a random scheme, whether it was shooting pigeons, or shooting up VCRs. He drew the heavy launcher, and aimed it at Sony, who was the only person left, with all the Mafia having been slaughtered.

"SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!" Tommy screamed at his former boss.

He saw the surprise in his former boss's eyes, as two rockets flew towards him, and engulfed him in a massive blast. Sonny was sent flying out of the mansion, eventually landing at the bottom of the stairs.

Tommy, grabbing his M4 anyway, walked slowly down to the bottom stair of Vercetti Estate, and he put his head in his hands. He could see Ken Rosenberg, who had been hiding in the bar the whole time, trying to crawl out unnoticed. Tommy aimed his M4 at him, but knowing it was empty, he shrugged, and drew his weapon away. Ken immediately picked himself up, and started towards Tommy, horrified.

"Tommy? Oh my god, Tommy! What happened?" Ken asked.

"What does it look like?" Tommy replied wearily.

"It looks like you ruined your suit, and Tommy, that was a beautiful suit! Tommy, what on earth happened?"

"I had a disagreement with a business associate, you know how it is."

"Tommy, I have a disagreement, I send them an angry letter. Maybe I pee in their mailbox. I don't start World War III. You know, maybe you should speak to my shrink..."

"That stupid prick, Lance…" Tommy muttered.

"Tommy. I never liked that guy, okay? He's neurotic, he's insecure, he's self-centred - the guy's an asshole! I'm glad you took him out!" Ken admitted his feelings about Lance.

"I don't think we're gonna be getting any more heat from up north either... ...'cause there ain't no 'up north', anymore. It's all down south now." Tommy said, beginning to pick himself up.

"Wait, does that mean what I think it means..? Tommy, baby!" Ken exclaimed.

"What do you think it means?"

"That we're in charge... I mean, that you're in charge. Oh, Tommy!"

"You know, Ken." Tommy said, picking himself up:

"I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful business relationship... After all, you're a conniving, backstabbing, two-bit thief and I'm a convicted psychotic killer and drug dealer," Tommy put his arms around the lawyer's shoulders, and they looked at the setting sun.

"Hehehe I know. Ain't it just beautiful?" Ken asked dreamily.

Tommy slapped him on the shoulder, and told him to get some food. He then went around looking for anybody at this place who was still alive. During this bit, he received his phone calls, just at the right time.

First, it was Cortez. It sounded as if he was doing fine wherever he was now.

"Tommy, Thomas, its Cortez. Que pasa?" came the familiar Spanish voice.

"Things are interesting." Tommy replied happily. And that was an understatement!

"How are you, my friend?" Tommy continued, asking.

"Tommy, it is always a struggle here. Excuse the poor line, we have just had another failed coup. The people are the most demanding mistress of all. So far, we have had three revolutions and four coups since I returned from Vice City. Luckily, I have been promoted each time." Cortez told Tommy. But then, he began talking about his own concern.

"I wanted to ask you about Mercedes." Cortez said.

"Okay, what about her?" Tommy asked.

"Oh Tommy, Tommy. I, I hear these stories, all these stories-I don't know what to think. Maybe everyone is humiliating me. Maybe she thinks she can do what she likes, but Tommy, tell me, is it true?" Cortez stuttered.

"Is what true?"

"These stories I hear. Is she really going to be a lawyer? Oh Tommy, the shame, the shame! You know, we Cortez's are a proud family. We would never allow a daughter of ours to become a lawyer. Please tell me it isn't so. I don't think I could take it."

"Oh Colonel, I can assure you Mercedes is never going to become a lawyer. Don't worry about it." Tommy laughed cheerfully

"Oh thank you, Tommy. Tommy, thank you. The shame would be unbearable. She is a lady, not a parasite, you know."

"I know, Colonel."

"Anyway, Tommy, you must excuse me, the new minister of the interior has arrived. Many years ago, I killed his father in a failed coup so I must be polite. Good day, amigo." Cortez shut the phone.

Soon, afterwards, there was another phone call, this time from Paul, who seemed rather impressed by Mercedes.

"Tommy, its Paulo, how are you? Right mate, anyway, thought I had to drop you a line. Oh my good lord, my son, you will not believe the quality of the brass I just encountered. Street walker or something, just down in Little Havana, mate. Said her name was Mercedes or something. Oh my god, mate. You gotta check this bird out. Could strip the lead out of a pencil. Said I was the best she ever had and all. Keep you potatoes skinned for her. Be seeing you." Kent said, in a flurry of words, and then the call was over.

Tommy was followed up by another call, this time from Earnest Kelly, who they seemed to have done well at the hospital.

"Tommy, it's Earnest. Earnest Kelly." Earnest greeted him.

"How are you?" Tommy asked, remembering his beating.

"I'm doing okay. I'll need a stick to walk, but I should be back at work soon enough."

"Good."

"I heard about Lance. What a little prick, eh?" Earnest asked Tommy about his opinion.

"Yes."

"Never trust a man who walks the street in his pyjamas. That's what I say. Glad you killed him. I hope it was painful for the prick."

"I think it was. I just didn't think he was like that…" Tommy replied, remembering his ninja-like barge on Lance.

"Tommy, for a raging lunatic, you're pretty naïve. I'll be back at work soon, teach you a thing or two about life."

"Take your time, Earnest. Look after yourself." Tommy assured Earnest calmly, and then he shut the phone. He froze and waited, if sensing another call.

It was Paul, but this time, he was drunk, and he had several things to say to Tommy. It seemed that he was upset with the way he treated him. _Poor guy_, Tommy thought. Maybe I should have treated him better. Tommy decided to invite him to his mansion a bit while later. But before he could dwell on this, Tommy received a call from the movie director, Steve Scott.

"Tommy, it's Steve." Steve said, with a blossom of happiness in his voice.

"Hey Steve." Tommy greeted.

"Hey indeed, genius. You're a marvel! I'm a marvel! They love us. We are re-writing the record books, pal. We are talking major awards here. Finally, I can put my dad in a home and tell him to shut up."

"Eer, that's cool Steve."

"Cool? It's hot, man. Hot, H.O.T. He never believed me. Never thought I was an artist, and now I've made it. I'm the best damn skin flick director of all time, my friend, and I just wanted to say it's a pleasure to have met you."

"Thanks Steve."

"I love you baby. Don't go changing on me, you hear."

"I hear you. Good bye, Steve."

Tommy grinned, and he flipped the cell phone shut, hopefully for the last time in the afternoon.

He walked to the top of the stairs, and sat down, and then he watched the brilliant sunset over Vice City.

**End note: **Wow! My second fanfic over. I really enjoyed writing this story, and in that process, doing Vice City all over again. Thanks to ALL my reviewers for their kind comments, and their words that kept me writing.

Well, I'm off to do something else, play Xbox perhaps, or maybe something else. Peace out.


End file.
